UC-NRLF 


DI55 


*B    ^MT    Tb? 


I  /Uo^ 


I  ^A^j/\r/i.rr7J/ 


fAijyC^AAjit/rUj&;fA/.  ^/jJ^ytmy) 


4. 

Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Archive    . 
in  2007  witin  funding  from 

\    :l 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation                           ^    - 

^      .i 

' 

http://www.arcliive.org/details/frobt|:oucomedyofOOdalyrich 


7Mx)v 


NO.    CCCUX 

FRENCH'S   STANDARD  DRAMA. 


''FROU  FROU;" 

A  Comeily  of  PowerM  Hnian  Interest, 


BY  AUGUSTIN   DALY,   ESQ., 

,  ^UTHOK  OP 

the  Gaslight,"  «'Flas^  <A  Li|!nWTi(^,'"  ^"^'iiyibelB^o^alrfea.**  '*  Grlffltli 
Gaunt,"  «'  Taming  a  Butterfly,"  &c.,  &c. 


mntered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1870,  &t/  Augustin  DaIiT*  Be% 
in  thf.  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  Sfaietf 
for  the  Southern  District  of  New  Torh- 


Kew  York:  London  : 

SAMUEL  FRENCH  &  SOK,  SA  M  U  E  L    F  R  E  K  C  H, 

PUBLISHERS,  PUBLISHER, 

28  WEST  23d  STREET.  89,    STRAND. 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS.— [Feou  Frou.] 
Ai  originally prodvLced  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theater ^  Tuesday,  Feb.  \b(h^  1870 

Henri  Sartorys,  {The  ffmband  of  the  Future) Mr.  George  Clarke. 

Brigard,  {A  Papa  of  the  Present) Mr.  W .  Davidge. 

ComieDbVameas,  j  ^''^  "fj2l«i  "^  ""[^'-  ^-  ^"^^^ 
Baron  De  Cambri,  {The  Hashand  of  the  Future) .  .Mr.  James  Lewis. 
PrroTT    i  ^^^  Prompter  who  believes  Nature  on  U/r«   ri    p   -npVprP 
^^^^^^  \  the  Stage  to  be  Abominable,  \  ^^-  ^-  ^ '  ■L'e  Vere. 

Vincent, Mr.  George  Jordan,  Jr. 

Zanetto,  {A  Sunny  Italian) Mr.  W .  Beekman. 

GiLBHRTR,  \^'  Frou  Frou  ")     Miss  Agnes  Ethel. 

EjOuise,  (ller  Sister.) Miss  Kate  Newton. 

Baronne  De  Cambri,  {A  Woman  of  the  j^uture).  .Mrs.  G.  H.  Gilbert. 

Pauline,  {A  AMjJ^  cfthe  Pres^tf.l  *.%',*..i. Miss  Fanny  Davenport. 

TflE  Governess,*;,  t^."! , .V  .  ^.2  *  :..•./. Miss  Emilie  Kiehl. 

Angelique, -.  r .  Miss  Amy  Ames. 

GEOKOXK,  {  f^tm-j:j^^i^fr\  Miss  Gerty  Korwood. 


TJLIE.— The  Present. 

SCENE— Act  1st  at  Charmarettes.  Act  2,  3  and  5  in  Paris.  Act  4 — 
Venice.  Lapse  of  four  years  between  the  1st  and  2d  Acts,  and 
a  few  weeks  between  the  2d  and  3d  and  3d  and  4th.  After  the 
4th  Act,  six  months  elapse. 


FKOU   FKOU. 


ACT    I. 

SCENE. — Brigard*s  house  at  Oharmarettes.  Parlor  of  the  Chateau  epming 
on  the  terrace  hy  three  arches  which  cross  the  stage  at  back  from  r.  2.  e.  to 
L.  4  B.  A  table  betv^een  each  arch  occupied  with  bronzes,  flowers,  eic.  A 
pedestal  with  a  tase  of  flowers,  a  table  and  a  sofa  on  the  l. 

Pauwne  w  discovered  as  the  curtain  rises,  to  merry  mttsic,  arranging  a  bouquet 
in  the  vase  at  l.  The  noise  of  a  whip  is  heard  and  she  turns  and  looks  off 
R.  through  the  aroh^. 

Pauline  Who's  coining  now  ?  [Goes  to  the  arches  and  looks  off,]  Why, 
if  it  isn't  Mademoiselle  Gilberte  and  that  charming  M.  de  Valreas. 
What  on  earth  can  \d  the  matter  that  they  are  galloping  in  that 
way?  Ah,  Monsieur  might  have  spared  his  horse.  Mademoiselle 
always  comes  in  first.  Now  he's  assisting  her  to  dismount.  They 
are  coming  here !  [She.  runs  to  the  vase  of  flowers  again.]  How  long 
they  are!  [Turns.]  Mademoiselle  must  have  gone  to  her  room 
direct.  [Returns  to  arcA  c]  That's  certain,  for  here  comes  M.  de 
Valreas  alone.    How  giacefully  he  bears  defeat. 

Unter  Valreas,  r.  c.  looking  back, 

Valrms  Beaten  again !  [Sees  Pauline.]  You  there !  You  see, 
ftiuline,  your  handsome  mistress  and  I  have  had  another  race. 

Pan  [Laughing.'^  And  my  handsome  mistress  come  in  ahead. 

Vol  As  usual  I  {Throws  hat  and  whip  on  sofa.]  Yes,  I  acknowledge 
r«a  beaten,  and  wlxit's  more,  Pauline,  I  don't  regret  it. 

Pau  [Coming don^i  «  c]  You  don't!    Why  not? 


f^DSfySfi 


<  FEOU  FROU. 

Val  Because  it's  infinitely  more  agreeable  to  gallop  behind  than 
before  her.  She  has  such  an  adorable  way  of  sitting  a  horse— and 
to  see  her— ah,  delicious  liltle  Frou  Frou !  [Ch-osses  to  l.  h. 

Pan  What,  Monsieur?  You  call  her  by  that  familiar  name? 
Mademoiselle  Gilberte  would  be  very  angry  if  she  heard  you  call  her 
Frou  Frou. 

Val  Why,  it's  her  name. 

Pau  It's  her  name  for  her  father  and  her  sister,  but  for  you— 

Val  Tot  me  too!  What  name  could  I  give  her,  indeed,  imore 
appropriate  tiian  that  which  seems  to  have  been  invented  for  the 
dclijious  little  creature  who  bears  it  ?  What  else  is  she  but  Frou 
Tj'rou?  A  noisy,  bustling,  busy  little  fairy— ever  rustling,  rustlmg, 
!ike  the  leaves  stirred  by  a  gentle  wind.  Frou  Frou,  always  ;  Frou 
Jaou,  everywhere !     In  the  house  a  door  opens  and  down  the  stairs 

<  onies  a  rustle  of  skirts  like  a  whirlwind.  Frou  Frou,  Frou  Frou ! 
I  Tmitatmg  rustle  of  siiL]  She  bounds  into  the  room  with  a  joyous  burst ! 
{  he  runs  here  and  there  -rummages  about,  disarranges  everything— 
Irowns.  laughs,  talks,  sings,  plays,  jumps,  and  whisks  away  again. 
Frou  Frou,  Frou  Frou,  always  Frou  Frou!  And  I  am  sure,  that 
while  she  sleeps,  the  angel  that  watches  over  her  waves  its  rustling 
wings  with  that  dear  little  sound,  Frou  Frou !  [Crosses  r. 

Pau  Oh,  indeed  !  [Looking  offL.]  Well,  you'd  better  stop  and  be 
proper,  for  her  father  is  just  dismounting  at  the  gate. 

Val  So  I  will,  for  I've  something  to  say  to  him  so  prodigiously 
serious,  so  prodigiously  proper,  in  fact,  [Laughing]  that  I  don't 
know  how  to  begin. 

Pau  Something  to  say  to  Mademoiselle  Gilberte' s  father? 

Val  Yes,  to  him,  and  then  to  her.  Pauline,  you  are  a  young  girl 
and  you  know  what  love  is,  don't  you  ? 

Pan  Oh,  I've  had  an  ordinary  education,  sir,  and  love  is  one  of  the 
primary  studies  for  girls. 

Val  Of  course  it  is.     It's  addition  isn't  it  ?    Or  is  it  multiplicaton? 

Pau  Yes,  sir — two  and  two  make  one. 

Val  Well,  then,  you  can  appreciate  my  feelings  when  I  tell  you 
that  I  adore  her— I  have  adored  her  ever  since — 

Pau  Two  days  ago,  going  on  three !  Here  comes  M.  Brigard,  gir ; 
you'd  better  finish  your  declaration  to  him.  Crosses  to  b. 

Enter  Brigard  uith  Baroness,  in  riding  hahit^  c.  from  l. 

Brigard  [c]  Hallo,  Valreas,  what  did  you  and  Giioerte  mean  b; 
running  off  and  leaving  us  two  alone  to  follow  you  ?  But  then  [Look^ 
ing  at  Baroness  rcith  a  look  of  gallantry .]     I  don't  complain  ! 

B'ness  [l.  c]  Well  it  would  be  strange  if  you  did. 

[Sits  on  sofa  arid  fans  herself  with  paper  that  is  lying  there. 

Val  [r.  c]  Why,  it  was  a  wager  between  Mademoiselle  Gilberte 
and  me  as  to  which  should  get  here  first,  and  when  we  did,  she  went 
to  her  rnom  *o  dress  for  dinner  while  I  waited  for  you. 


At 


I 


FROU  FRorr.  5 

Brig  And  amused  yourself  talking  to  the  maid  about  her.  >wul- 
ine,  what's  he  been  saying? 

Fail  [r.  h.  corner.']  Saying,  sir  ?  [Valreas  vwiions  her  to  stop 

Brig  [Sitting  c]  Yes,  saying. 

Pau  He  called  Mademoiselle  Gilberte  Frou  Frou,  and  asked  if  she 
bad  a  heart. 

Brig  [Pretending  seriousness.']  What? 

Val  I  didn't  say  anything. 

Brig  [To  Pauline.]  That'll  do.  Go  to  Gilberte!  [Exit  Pauline, 
B.  1  E.]  So  you'  ve  been  tr3dng  to  find  out  whether  Gilberte  has  a 
heart,  eh?  [Looks  at  Baroness  and  pauses.]  WelTf,  I'll  talk  to  you 
presehtly ;  I  must  go  and  dress,  and  mind,  before  I  come  back,  don't 
make  anatomical  investigations  through  any  of  the  other  servants. 

[Exits  R.  1  E. 

Val  [Following  him  to  the  door.]  Well,  it's  no  harm,  everyone  has  a 
heart.  I  didn't  ask  about  her  fortune  or  anything  else  that  was 
mean. 

B'ness  Oh,  Valreas!    Valreas! 

Vol  [Assuming  air  of  gallantry/.]     Well,  what  have  I  done  now  ? 

[Crosses  to  c. 

B'ness  [Looking  at  him  through  eye-glass.]  I  have  known  you  for  foui 
years  now,  and  if  I  were  called  upon  to  say  what  you  are,  I  should 
be  puzzled  for  an  answer. 

Fa/  [Making  a  gesture  of  surprise.]     What  /am  ? 

B'ness  Yes,  what  you  are. 

Vol  [Approaching  her.]  I  am  only  a  poor  devil  who  is  dying  of  love 
for  you. 

B'ness  Yes,  I  know— you*  ve  said  that  for  four  years  and  I  see  you 
are  alive  yet. 

Vol  For  four  years  and  no  intermission  for  refreshments. 

B'ness  Nonsense !  you've  been  here  two  days  and,  during  that  time 
you've  done  nothing  but  make  love  to  little  Gilberte. 

'Val  [Sitting  beside  her.]  Don't  you  see  that  W^as  only  a  little 
maneuver  of  mine  ? 

B'ness  To  make  n\e  jealous? 

Val  Yes. 

B'ness  But  how  about  that  widow  ? 

Val  Widow?    What  wido\w? 

B'ness  Who  is  dying  of  love  for  you,  who  is  determined  to  get  a 
husband  and  who  has  followed  you  from  Paris  down  to  this  place. 
Don  t  deny  it.     /  know. 

Val  You  know?     [Baroness  nods  yes.]    Who  told  you  ? 

B'ness  Aha !  [Rises  and  crosses  B. 

Val  [Aside.]  It's  that  rogue  Brigard !  [Rising.]  Ah,  I  see  yon 
fTon't  believe  in  the  deep  ardor  of  my  affection.    You  won't. 

B'ness  [Meeting  him  c]  No  I  won't. 

Vd  Decidedly? 

B'ness  Decidedly ! 

Vol  Then  I'm  perfectly  right  in  lavi^iing  the  ardor  of  my  affeo- 


6  FROU  FROU. 

tion  oil  Brigard'3  little  daughter.    And  yoa  know  wbat  the  oonse 
quences  will  be  ? 

B'ness  [In  surprise.']  The  consequences  ? 

Val  Yes ! — a  wedding. 

I?ness  What  ?     You  marry  ?     [YALEEAa  nods.l     You  marry  ? 

Val  Certainly!  Won't  she  make  a  delicious  little  countess?— and 
the  day  we  are  married,  what  a  gay,  delightful,  happy,  joyous  wed- 
ding we  will  have— with  - 

B'ness  With  music  hy  Offenbach  ? 

Vol  vvell,  why  not  ?  And  then  there  are  typographical  and  geo- 
graphical reasons  why  we  should  marry.  [Goes  tip  to  c.  arch.]  Tiiere 
on  the  right,  is  the  chateau  of  our  friend  Sartorys ;  at  tM  left, 
yonder,  mine  ;  and  this  one  we  are  in  makes  a  third,  which  my  friend 
Biigard  bought  two  years  ago.  Doesn't  it  strike  you  as  odd  now,  as 
a  sort  of  destiny,  that  Brigard,  with  his  two  marriageable  daughters, 
should  come  and  settle  here,  between  two  bachelors — Sartorys  and 
myself? 

B'ntss  It's  quite  delightful  to  hear  you,  I  declare. 

[Returns  to  sofa. 

Val  [cl  You  must  acknowledge  that  Providence  never  more  clearly 
mamfeste^l  its  intentions.  Neither  Sartorys  nor  I  will  oppose  fate. 
First  mairiage,  Md'lle  Louise  Brigard  and  Mon.  Henri  Sartorys; 
music  by  Haydn,  solenm,  grand ;  a  union  of  w^isdom  and  reason. 
Second  marriage,  Mdlle  Gilberte  and  your  humble  servant ;  a  union 
of  just  the  opposite. 

B'nesi  How  do  you  know,  sir,  that  M.  Sartorys  loves  Louise  and 
wishes  to  marry  her  ? 

Val  How  do  I  know  ?  Why  has  he  who  never  before  spent  a  fort- 
night down  at  his  chateau,  now  remained  here — let  me  see — more 
than  two  months  ?  Why,  unless  he  wishes  to  marry  her,  does  he 
come  here  every  day  ? 

B'ness  [Rising.]  Well,  that's  something. 

Vol  [Grossing  l.]   And  then  he's  so  well  suited  to  her.    Ha'g 
quiet  and  she's  so  quiet. 

B'ness  [c]  But  suppose  that — 

Val  [Going  to  her  quickly.]  What  ? 

Enier  Bakon  de  Cambri,  l.  c  ,  carrying  a  tin  hox^  such  as  Botanists  coUa 
their  herbs  in,  on  his  shoulder.     IVears  a  vnde,  ^iie  hat. 

B'ness  [Quietly.]  Nothing. 

Baron  Here  I  am,  my  dear. 

Val  Ah !  good  morning,  Baron.  What  have  you  brought  bacl 
from  your  early  botanical  excursion  ? 

Baron  Well,  not  much  luck  to-day.  [To  Baroness.]  Here,  m] 
love,  is  something  which  I  selected  for  you.  [Offering  an  insignificai\ 
black  flower.]  Ugly,  but  very  rare.  I  dug  it  out  of  a  mud-bank,  mi 
darling,  at  the  risk  of  my  life. 

B'7iess  Dug  it  out  of  a  mud-bank  for  me  ?  Really,  you  are  too  good 
I  don't  care  to  rob  the  mud-bank. 


FROU  FROU.  7 

• 

Barm  But,  my  dear,  you  don't  know  what  this  is— it  is  die  far- 
fomed  Achyrophorous  Calendula  Borkorsia  Alpina. 

Val  What? 

Baron  The  far-famed  Achyrophorous  Calendula  Borkorsia  Alpina. 

B'ness  I  don't  care  what  it  is.  What  have  1  told  you,  sir,  re- 
peatedly ? 

Baron  Told  me,  my  angel  ? 

B'ness  Havn't  I  forbidden  you  ever  to  appear  before  me  with  that 
abominable  tin  box,  and  those  dirty  rocks  and  rubbish  ? 

Baron  Certainly,  my  love.  You  have  told  me  in  the  most  positive 
manner.  I  will  go  and  put  the  dirty  rocks  and  rubbish  in  the  next 
room  and  return  immediately.  [EzUs  l.  u.  e. 

Val  [  Watching  his  exit  and  then  quicJd?/.]  Come,  Baroness,  you  were 
about  to  say,  just  now — 

B'ness  [Crossing  l.]  I?    When? 

Val  When  I  spoke  of  a  marriage  between  Louise  and  Sartorys — 

B'ness  Oh,  yes,  I  remember.  I  was  about  to  say  that  it  is  evident 
you  are  in  love  with  Gilberte,  even  if  he  be  not  with  Louise.  But  I 
must  go  dress  for  dinner. 

\Cartseys  elaborately  and  exits  l.  1.  e.  laughing. 

Val  {Taking  the  stage  to  r.]  Certanly  I  am  in  love. 

Re-enter  Baeon  tmihout  box. 

Baron  You  see,  my  love,  that  it  is  only  necessary  for  you  to 
express  a  desire  for  to — 

[Sees,  for  the  first  time^  that  the  Baroness  has  departed. 

Val  She's  gone.  Baron.  {Sits  r.  beside  table. 

Baron  Gone,  eh!  well  that's  just  like  her.  It's  the  Baroness  all  over. 
You  enter  the  room — "Go  out"  she  says,  "and  don't  return  until 
you  have  done  this  or  that  for  penance."  "  You  go  out,  you  submit 
You  come  back  only  to  find  that  she's  gone  out  herself  and  there 
are  vou,  as  it  were,  completely  wrung  out.    That's  my  wife. 

Val  Ah !   indeed  1 

Baron  Don't  sit  there  and  say  "  ah !  indeed !"  in  that  way.  You 
know  it  as  well  as  I  do. 

Val  Who?  I? 

Baron  Oh,  yes!  you,  and  a  good  many  others.  [Valreas  leans 
forward^  You  are  not  the  only  one  who  has  been  trying  to  make 
love  to  her.  [Valreas  draws  6acA;.]  Oh,  I've  had  my  eye  on  aU 
your  maneuvers. 

Val  [Law^As.]  What  an  interesting  subject  of  contemplation. 

Baron  Oh,  yes!  I've  watched  you  all  and  I've  pitied  you.  Val 
REAS  becomes  serious  and  angry. 1  Oh !  I  could  tell  you  some  of  the 
drollest  things  about  the  other  poor  devils.  [Laughs  andthen  siuldenly.] 
But  it  would  take  too  long.  Let's  speak  of  you  alone  Now,  for  in- 
stance — 

Val  [Assuming  virtuous  air.']  Me !     Never !  never  ! 

Baron  Oh,  yes,  you !  You  have  tried  three  times  to  make  love  to 
my  wife     The  first  attempt,  as  was  natural,  the  day  after  that  on 


«  FROU  FROU. 

• 
which  I  introduced  you  to  her.  The  second— two  years  afterwaidi 
at  the  races.  You  remember,  you  rode  a  yellow  horse  there,  as  an 
amatem-  jockey,  and  you  thought  that  by  exhibiting  vourself  in  an 
orange-colored  jacket  without  any  tails,  and  on  a  yellow  horse,  you 
could  make  an  impression,  ha !  ha !  Well,  the  Baroness  and  I  had  a 
good  laugh  over  you  that  day.  The  third  attempt,  you  have  made 
here  m  this  house.  [Valreas  stirts]  And  it  was  because  vour  third 
attempt  was  as  unfortunate  as  the  two  first  that  you  have  commenced 
to  adore  little  Frou  Frou. 
•J      FaZ  Pooh!     You've  been  dreamini::. 

Baron  Oh,  you're  right  to  ^ve  up  the  idea.  The  Baroness  is  not 
the  woman  to  be  made  love  to.  Her  temper  is— is— so— so— well, 
it's  tremendously  unpleasant  for  me,  but  it  reassures  me  as  to  every 
<^t^^rman.  [Eisim. 

Vol  iRising.']  I  congratulate. 

Baron  0\i\  you  needn't  be  sarcastic.  T  don't  mind  your  temper, 
any  more  than  your  love  making  [Crosses  to  l.]  It's  no  go,  my 
dear  boy,  it's  no  go ;  so  don't  waste  any  more  time  over  it. 

[Saunters  off^  l.  1  £. 
EnUr  Brigard,  r.  1b.,  dressed  fcrr  dinner. 

Brig  Hallo,  are  you  still  there  ? 

Val  Yes,  I  waited,  because  I  wished  to  speak  with  you. 

Bxig  Well,  it's  about  time  we  had  a  little  serious  conversation. 

Val  I  really  believe  it  is. 

Brig^  Gilberte  has  been  telling  me  that  while  you  were  riding  with 
her  this  morning,  you  began  to  talk  in  a  singular  manner  about 
hearts,  and  affections,  and  other  etceteras.  Now  what  have  you 
been  saying  to  her? 

Val  Nothing  that  a  young  lady  could  not  listen  to. 

Brig  Oh  !  you  think  so  do  you  ? 

Val  Certainly,  since  I  have  made  a  resolution  to  turn  over  a  new 
leaf  and  make  amends  for  all  my  past  follies. 

Brig  What? 

Val  Yes,  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  marry. 

Brig  You  marry  ? 

Val  Yes,  why  not  ?    I  was  never  more  serious. 

Brig  That's  not  saying  much.  Now  listen  to  me,  my  boy,  I  like 
you  very  much,  really,  very  much.  I've  been  about  town  with  you 
for  a  couple  of  years;  in  fact,  I  showed  you  life  when  you  first  came 
to  Paris.  We've  had  jolly  times  together,  and  I  like  no  one  better 
than  you.  But  as  for  giving  you  my  daughter,  never,  as  long  as  1 
live,  friend  of  my  bosom. 

Val  Why  not?  I  would  make  her  perfectly  happy.  In  the  firs! 
place,  she  would  be  a  countess. 

Bng  [Crossing  to  sofa,  l.]  Oh !  that's  nothing. 

Val  Why  not  ? 

Brig  ^Putting  his  hands  in  his  pocMs  and  unintentionally  jingling  money.] 
You  know,  my  dear  fellow,  if  1  chose,  I  could  have  a  duke.     \^Sits. 


FROU  FROU.  9 

uraph!   well  it's  rather  bad  taste  to  jingle  your  moi/cy  in 
ihat  way  at  me. 

Brig  Why,  I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing,  especially  to  yon, 
w^ho  are  richer  than  I.     Besides,  I  take  it  all  back  about  the  duke. 

Vol  [o.]  And  you  will  give  me  your  daughter  ? 

Brig  What !  my  little  Frou  Frou  ?  My  little  tempest  ?  My  little 
darling  ?  Most  certainly  [VALREAS/Mmps  towards  him  as  Brigard  rises,'] 
not! 

Val  [Nettled.']  Why  so,  since  you  like  me  ? 

Brtg  It's  precisely  because  I  do  like  you,  or  rather  on  account  of 
the  reasons  that  I  like  you.  You  see  ?  You  are  too  jolly  a  com- 
panion to  be  trusted  as  a  son-in-law  ?  Besides,  there's  that  widow 
who  is  after  you. 

FaZ  Devil  take  the  widow.  For  two  days  I  have  taken  refuge 
under  your  roof  to  avoid  her.  Doesn't  that  prove  there's  nothing 
serious  in  that  quarter  ? 

Bnrj  Ah !  you  rogue.  You  can't  tell  me.  Widows  don't  run 
about  after  handsome  boys  like  you  without  encouragement. 

Val  But  I'm  determined  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  her,  to  be- 
come a  new  man.  I  really  believe  if  I  had  some  friend  who  would 
stand  by  me  now  I  might  become  worthy  of  existence  and  not  the 
cursed  nonentity  I  have  been. 

Brig  [Eying  him  closely.']  You  really  wish  then — 

Val  [Grasping  his  hand  warmly.]  Will  you? 

Brig  [Bursiizg  out  laughing.]  Oh,  anything  to  oblige  a  friend. 

Val  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Brig  Oh !  nothing.     I'm  going  to  drive  the  widow  away. 

[Going  c. 

Val  That's  right,  and  when  you  return  I  will  address  you  formally 
with  my  request. 

Brig  [Stops.]  What  request? 

Val  Why,  my  request  for  your  daughter,  of  course. 

Brig  What !  you've  got  back  to  that  again,  have  you? 

Enter  Louise,  r.  1.  e. 

Ah  I  EiOuise,  you've  just  come  in  time.  [To  Yalreas.]  Now  talk 
to  her  about  your  preposterous  ideas. 

Louise  [c]  What  ideas? 

Brig  Come,  out  with  it. 

Val  [r.  c]  Oh  !  you  needn't  try  to  frighten  me. 

Brig  [Returning,  takes  Louise's  hand.]  It  is  perfectly  well  understood 
in  this  household,  that  in  this  little  brain  [Tapping  her  forehead.] 
dwells  all  the  wisdom  of  the  Brigard  family  ;  andlhat  all  questions 
of  serious  import  must  be  referred  to  Louise. 

Louise  Well?  [Seriously. 

Val  Well,  I've  just  asked  of  your  father,  the  hand  of  Md'llt 
Gilberte  in  marriage. 

Louue  The  hand  of  Gilberte  ?  [Surprised  and  then  smiling. 

yai  [Serimisly.]  What  do  you  answer,  Mademoiselle  ? 


FKOU  FROU. 

Louise  [c.'J  My  answer  is,  that  if  you  do  not  make  haste  and  dica 
for  dinner,  the  same  thing  will  happen  to-day  that  occurred  yester»«^ 
day — you  will  be  late. 

Brig  \jL.  c]  There,  arc  you  satisfied  ? 

Val  Very  well,  as  no  one  will  listen  to  me  seriously — 

Louise  [Oi-ossitig  l.]  Go  and  dress  for  dinner. 

Brig  [Adde.  to  Valreas  ]  You  still  authorize  me  to  go  to  thai 
wi'low. 

Val  [With  dignity.]  Certainly,  sir. 

Brig  Then  I'm  going.  [Exits  c.  and  L. 

Louise  [To  Valreas  ]  Hr.^n't  you  gone  yet  ? 

I  shan't  go  until  you  tell  me  why  you  oppose  my  marrying  Gilberts 

Louise  Well,  I  suppose  I  must,  or  you'll  never  be  ready. 

Enter  Vincent,  l.  c. 

Vincent  Mon.  de  Sartorys. 

Louise  rises  and  turns  towards  c.  and  l.  as  if  with  pleasure  as  SARTORTi 
enters  c,  and  Yisceut  goes  out. 

Sartorys  Mademoiselle.  [Bows  to  Louise. 

Louise  Did  you  see  my  father  ? 

Sar  I've  just  met  him.   [To  Valreas.]     I  hope  you  are  well,  Paul ? 

Val  [Mournfully.]  Very  well — that  is,  when  I  say  very  well— ah ! 
my  dear  friend,  if  you  only  knew  how  they  treat  me  in  this  house. 

Louise  [To  Valreas.]  You'll  never  be  ready  for  dinner. 

Val  [To  Louise,  who  looks  at  him^  laughing.]  I'm  going !     I'm  going  I 

[Exits  l.  1  E. ,  sighing. 

Louise  [To  Sartorys.]  How  late  you  are  to-day ! 
[Her  manner  must  evince  love  for  him  and  pleasure  in  his  company.     Sht 
motions  to  a  chair  ;  they  sit^ 

Sar  [Serioiisly.]  I  suppose  I'm  late,  because  I  left  home  earlier  thac 
usual.  [Louise /aw/jr/i^.]  I'll  explain.  I  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  get 
here  that  I  started  from  the  Chateau  at  a  full  gallop :  but,  when  I 
got  within  a  hundred  paces  of  the  gate,  I  stopped,  turned  my  horse, 
and  for  a  whole  hour,  walked  him  about  the  neighborhood.  I  came 
back  to  the  gate  three  times  and  three  times  turned  away  again. 
The  fourth  time,  however,  I  did  like  all  cowards  when  they  make  up 
their  minds  to  be  brave.  I  plunged  in  head  foremost  and  here  I 
am  a  little  later  than  usual,  perhaps,  but  still,  here  I  am. 

Louise  [Who  has  followed  him  with  interest  and  laughingly,  but  now  6e- 
ginning  to  show  her  emotion.]     What  was  the  cause  of  this  hesitation  ? 

Sar  It  is  because  I  have  decided  to  say  something  to-day  that  I 
have  wished  to  say  for  the  last  month.  That  is  the  reasoL  why  I 
trembled  all  the  way  here  and  wliy  I  still— 

Louise  [Confused.]  If  what  you  have  to  say  is  so  very  serious— 

Sar  [Earnestly.]  It  is. 

Tjouise  [Moved.]  Perhaps  you  had  better  wait— 

Sar  Oh  no,  I  must  positively  go  through  with  it  to-day.    Besides, ' 
before  i  speak  I  can  gain  courage  by  remembering  how  good  yo« 


FROU  FROU.  11 

have  always  been  to  me.    And  then,  your  father  authorized  me  to— 

Louise  Oh !  if  papa — 

Sar  He  did !  and  more  than  that,  he  said  I  must  first  speak  to  you. 

Louise  ^J)eep  emotion.]  To  me  ! 

Sar  [Taking  her  hand.]  Have  you  not  guessed  ?    I  am  in  love. 

Louise  [Scarcely  atidible.]  You  love  ! 

Sar  Yes !  I  love,  madly,  devotedly — your  sister  !  Gilberte ! 
[Louise  as  if  petrified,  at  first  says  nothing,  simply  raises  her  eyes  to  Sar- 
TORYS,  then — 

Louise  Gilberte ! 

Sar  Did  you  not  suspect  it  ? 

Louise  [Breathless.]  No. 

Sar  [  Without  looking  at  her  and  as  if  speaking  to  nimsdf.]  It  seemed  tc 
me  as  if  everybody  must  have  noticed  it. 

Louise  You  love  my  sister  ? 

Sar  Yes,  and  that  is  why  I  appeal  to  that  friendship  which  you 
have  always  shown  me.  Tell  me,  then,  what  you  think  of  this 
avowal  which  I  have  just  made  ?     [Pause.]     You  do  not  answer. 

Louise  1  understand  you  perfectly.  You  love  Gilberte  and  you  ask 
me — 

Sir  If  you  approve  of  this  marriage. 

Louise  [Crossing  before  him.]  I  approve — T  approve  of  it. 

Sar  [Rising.]  You  will  be  on  my  side  then  ? 

Louise  Yes,  for  I  know  of  no  man  more  worthy,  no  one  who  could — 
better  than  you  — 

Sar  [Interrupting  her  and  taking  her  hand,  which  she  withdraws  in  paii.] 
Thank  you,  Louise,  thank  you. 

Louise  [Slowly  and  looking  at  him  with  a  melancholy  smile.]  At  first  I 
was  surprised,  you  understand  ?  It  is  necessary,  you  know,  to  be- 
come accustomed  to  an  idea.  And  now — I  am  so.  [This  said  after  a 
struggle  loith  her  own  emotions,  which  she  conceals  from  Sartorts.]  You 
are  just  the  husband  I  would  have  chosen  for  her,  for  I  have  often 
thought  of  Gilberte' s  marriage,  and  sometimes  with  fear.  Her  wil- 
fulness and  frivolity  have  made  me  tremble  for  the  future. 

[Sits  on  sofa. 

Sar  Ah ! 

Louise  And  I  have  nover  thought  until  this  moment,  that  in  order 
to  save  her  from  any  danger,  it  was  only  necessary  to  give  her  to  a 
man  like  you. 

Sar  Do  not  let  us  blame  what  you  call  her  frivolity,  for  I  confes?  to 
you  it  is  a  little  on  account  of  that  I  love  her.  Still,  if  you  think  it 
best,  I  will  try  to  teach  her — but  by  degrees — 

Louise  How  much  you  love  her ! 

Sar  Yes. 

Louise  But  yvhy  did  you  come  to  me  ?  • 

Sar  Because  your  fatlier  told  me  it  was  you  I  must  speak  to — 

Ijouise  Well,  you  have  spoken  to  me  and  I  have  answered  you 
A.nd  now,  [Sap.torys  sits  hcsiie  her.]  what  more  ? 

Sar  You — )'ou  wHl  speak  to  her,  to  Gilberte  for  ma? 

Louise  I ! 


12  FROU  FKOIT. 


n 


Sar  If  I  tried  to  speak  myself,  the  same  thing  "would  happen  thai 
happened  a  while  ago,  I  should  go  wandering  wildly  about,  afraid  to 
come  boldly  up  to  the  gate— I  mean  the  point.  Or,  if  I  did  speak, 
what  I  would  say  might  be  more  disastrous  than  my  silence.  She 
might  laugh,  and  then— I  prefer  that  you  should  speak  to  her.  Tell 
her  all  the  good  you  can  of  me,  and  even  a  little  more — that  will  do 
no  harm.  But,  I  beg  of  you,  don't  say  that  my  character  is  serious 
or  severe  ;  there  is  the  greatest  danger.  Tell  her  that,  in  spite  of  my 
appearing  quiet,  and  grave,  and  awkward,  that  I  love  her  as  madly 
as  any  of  the  young  fellows  who  surround  her.  [Bisinj.]  Oh !  if 
you  only  knew  how  I  have  envied  V  alreas,  who  can  make  love  to  a 
dozen  women,  one  after  the  other.  Tell  her,  above  all,  not  to  think 
me  stupid ;  for,  by  an  unfortunate  fatality,  those  who  can  love  the 
most  are  always  the  ones  who  know  least  how  to  speak  of  love. 

Louise  [Rising.]  Yes,  yes  —I  promise. 

Sar  [c  ]  You  will  speak  to  her  ?    When  ? 

Louise  [l.  c]  As  soon  as  I  see  her.     In  a  few  minutes. 

Sar  [Agitated.]  In  a  few  minutes? 

Louise  Do  you  not  wish  me  to  ? 

Sar  Y  ds,  but  not  while  I  am  here. 

Louise  Certainly  not !  But  what  will  you  do  while  I  am  pleading 
your  cai»se  ? 

Sar  I  will  go  out  there— in  the  park — and  walk  up  and  down.  I 
will  not  lose  sight  of  this  room.  [Joyously.]  If  the  answer  be  * '  yes/' 
you  will  have  but  a  sign  to  make  ;  if  it  be  "  no  " —  [Sadly. 

Louise  If  it  be  no  ? 

Sar  I  will  mount  my  horse  and  return  home. 

Jjouise  [Holding  out  her  hand.]  Without  a  farewell  ? 

Sar  Ah,  Louise !  all  my  life  hangs  on  yes  or  no.  [Listening  off  E, 
Music-.]  flark  !  do  you  not  hear  her  ?  Her  footsteps  on  the  staircase? 
The  rustle  of  her  skirts  ? — 

Louise  Always  the  same  noisy  Frou  Frou. 

Sar  She  comes  like  a  little  tempest.  [Gets  r.  u.  8. 

Enter  Gilberte  in  dinner  toilet,  like  a  ivhirlmnd,  e.  1  e.  holding  a  bracelet 
in  her  hand. 


[c]  Louise,  fasten  me  this? 
Louise  What?  [Sartobys  gets  dovm  r.  gradually, 

(\il  This  bracelet !  I  can't !  [Holds  out  her  left  aim ;  Loulse  fastens  the 
bracelet.]  Good  gracious!  how  your  hand  trembles!  What  is  the 
matter  with  you  ?  [Seeing  Sartorys,  extends  her  right  hand  to  hir/i, 
Louise  still  retaining  the  left.]  Your  servant,  Mon.  Sartorys ! 

Sar  [Taking  her  hand.]  Mademoiselle.  [Bows. 

'm  ■  ^tl  Why,  your  hand  trembles  too !  [Sartorys  a?id  Louise  look  ai 
each  oi/ur,  each  holding  a  hand  of  Gilberte.]  What,  both  of  yoQ? 
Why,  what's  going  on  here? 

Louise  [To  Sartorys.]  Well,  sir,  since  it  is  impossible  for  you  to 
remain  quiet —  [Smilingly. 

m€rU  [Knowingly.]  Oho  !  [LaugJLS. 

Louise  You  had  better  go  and  walk  about  a  little. 


FROU  FROU.  18 

Sar  Yes,  Mademoiselle,  I  am  going — to  walk  about  a  little. 

[Exits  c.  and  l.  with  last  gesture  to  Louise. 
And  now,  my  dear  sister,  [Taking  hoik  her  hands.]  let  me  beg 
yotir  pardon  for  coming  in  eo  abruptly  and  spoiling  your  tete-a-tete. 
feut  why  did  he  go  away  ?  He  should  have  stayed  here  and  kept  quiet, 
and,  as  soon  as  I  saw  which  way  the  wind  blew,  I'd  have  gone  around 
the  room  as  if  I  was  lookiog  for  something,  and  then — fizz !  gone  out 
again  and  left  you  two  to  yourselves.  That's  the  way  to  manage  it. 
You  see  I  know. 

Louise  You  were  perfectly  right  in  coming,  Gilberte,  and  still  more 
80  to  stay.     It  was  of  you  we  were  talking. 
-""#rf  Of  me  ? 

Louise  Mon.  Sartorys  asks  for  your  hand. 
mMU  [Amazed.]  What  do  you  say? 

Louise  I  say  that  Mon.  Sartorys  has  asked  for  your  hand.  He  has 
spoken  to  father  already,  and  he,  knowing  the  affection  I  have  for 
you,  my  dear  Gilberte,  advised  him  to  speak  to  me. 

i#iJ  My  hand  !    Sartorys !     Impossible !     You  must  be  mistaken. 

Louise  But  I  am  not  mistaken. 

Then  he  is  mistaken.     It  is  you  that  he  is  in  love  with. 

Louise  It  is  you. 

#rt  I? 

Louise  He  told  me  so,  and  begged  me  to  repeat  it  to  you,  and — 

£kl  Well ! 

Louise  He  waits  for  yoni  answer. 
tmm^il  My  answer  !    Now?    Before  I've  time  to  take  breath!    And 
you  say  he  spoke  to  papa  about  it  ? 

Louise  Yes. 

And  papa  left  it  to  you  ? 

Louise  Father  could  not  give  the  answer,  it  is  you  alone. 

^Gkl  No,  no,  no,  no  !  It  s  too  serious  for  me.  I  have  always  said, 
when  the  question  of  my  marriage  came,  I  would  go  and  find  my 
sister  Louise,  who  is  so  good  and  so  ^vise,  and  I  would  beg  her — 

Louise  No,  Gilberte,  no. 

'€Hi  Yes,  yes !  I  do  as  papa,  does— I  refer  it  to  you.  You  must 
decide  for  me.     I  will  give  whatever  answer  you  advise  me. 

Louise  [  With  an  effort.]  In  that  case,  I  advise  you  to  answer — yes ! 
m^t^  Louise,  have  you  reflected  ?— 

Louise  Yes.     Sartorys'  merit  is  universally  acknowledged. 

#»^  Oh,  I  know  he  has  merit,  a  great  deal  too  much,  perhaps. 

Louise  How  so  ? 

Louise,  sit  here  with  me.  [Louise  on  sofa,  Gilberts  chair.]  I 
am  going  to  speak  serious  now.  Monsieur  Sartorys,  I  acknowledge, 
is  a  man  to  whom  it  is  almost  impossible  to  say  no.  Let  me  see — 
what  do  they  say  he  will  yet  become  with  hi,  talents? 

Louise  Oh  !  minister  somewhere — an  ambassador. 

■"    0il  [Playfully.]  And  I  would  be  an  ambassadress  !     That  would  be 

nice,  if  it  were  only  in  Paris.   [Seriously.]  But  if  I  do  him  justice,  I  must 

do  myself  the  same.     I  am  full  of  faults  ;  you  kn  jw  it  and  so  do  T, 

and  it  seems  to  me  that  these  faults  of  mine  are  the  very  ones  Sar 


J  4  FROU  FROU 

torjs  should  (vish  in  a  -wife  if  he  hoped  to  he  entirely  unhappy.  [Sk$ 
laughs,  Louise  makes  a  gesture  of  disaffirmance.']  Oh,  you  think  he  would 
cure  me?  I  am  sure  he  could  not  I  have  always  been  spoilt — by 
papa  first,  then  by  you.  By  you  still  more  than  papa.  [Louise  makei 
same  gesture.}  Yes,  still  more.  And,  what  is  still  more,  I  am  posi- 
tively decided  to  remain  hopelessly  ill  of  those  faults  and  never  to  be 
cured,  for  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  .with  myself  just  as  I  am.  If  I 
married  M.  de  Sartorys  we  would  have  such  battles. 
Louise  He  loves  you.  Gilbcrte. 
— *^  .H^^ik  Are  you  very  sure  ? 

Louise  Did  you  not  see  a  little  while  ago  ? 

[A pause;  she  rejleds  ]  And  so  it  is  I  he  loves.    [Laughs.]    What 
a  funny  idea.  [Rises. 

Louise  [Animated ;  rising.]  Is  it  nothing  to  be  loved  by  such  a  man  ? 
To  see  that  he  trembles  before  you  like  a  child  ?  [Still  more  animated.] 
It  seems  to  me  if  I  were  asked  who  is  it  I  love,  I  should  say  with 
pride  :  "  Look  for  the  man  who  is  superior  to  everyone  about  him — 
it  is  he. ' ' 

HI  [Going  to  her  and  patting  her  arms  around  her  vxiist.]    Do  you  know 
one  thing,  sister  Louise  ? 
Louise  What  is  it  ? 
j,i<ii  II     (iil    I  will  not  marry  Mon.  Sartorys. 

Louise  Why  ? 
^^^^.^^..^Md  [Demurely.]  Because,  up  to  this  time,  I  thought  that  you  loved 
him  ;  and  now — I  am  sure  of  it. 
Louise  I? 
inM  Jijiii  -^ti^  [Patting  Louise's  checlc]  Yes,  you. 

Louise  [Very  quietly.]  If  I  loved  him  I  would  not  advise  you  to 
marry  him. 

-«» Oit  [Moving  away  ]   Louise,  I'm  become  afraid  of  you.     I  believe 

you  are— first,  capable  of  sacrificing  yourself  for  me  and  then  of  being 
proud  of  the  sacrifice. 

Louise  [Going  to  Gilberts  and  putting  her  arm  about  her  waist.]     Then, 
this  time,  little  sister,  you  are  wrong.     My  affection  for  you  is  cer- 
tainly very  great,  but,  however  great  it  might  be,  if  I  loved,  I  would 
not— 
[An  imperceptible  look  of  pain  passes  over  her  face,  not  seen  by  Gilberte. 
^.mff'^^i  [DouUingly,  and  looking  down.]  Do  you  speak  truly  ? 

fjouise  [Gaily]  Absolutely.  And  if  you  have  no  other  objection  to 
this  union — 
,.v,.-->-^'<  Objections !  Oh,  I've  plenty  of  them ;  but  I  don't  know  whether 
they  amount  to  anything.  So  I  will  do  as  I  have  always  done— jilace 
myself  in  your  hands.  Must  Isixy  yes,  or  no  ?  [Louise  about  to  sf^eak.] 
Do  not  answer  too  quickly.  Be  serious  ;  and  before  answering,  think 
of  everything. 

Louise  I  ha v^e  thought  of  everything. 
■  "■■    Oil  And  you  believe — 

LTjise  I  believe  that  Monsieur  Sartorys  will  be  too  hnppy  with  you, 
for  you  not  to  be  always  happy  with  him. 
[Smiling.]  So  I  must  answer  Yes  ? 


FROU  FROU.  16 

ixmse  [Kissiiu/ffher.]  You  must  answer  Yes. 
Fnkr  Beigard,  x.  u.  B. 

Brig  Well,  have  you  spoken  to  her? 

Louiae  [c]  Yes. 

Brig  And  her  answer  ? 

Louise  She  consents. 

Brig  [Kissing  Gilbeste.]  You  little  angel ! 
[Louise  goes  down  n.  b.  ,  Just  pressing  handkerchief  to  her  eyes^  and  recovering 

immediately.'] 
_  (iil-  So  you  are  satisfied,  papa ? 

Brig  I'm  delighted  !     And  now  I  can  give  that  young  rascal,  YaL 
reas,  a  categorical  answer. 
Answer  !  a,bout  what  ? 

Brig  [Laughing.']  Why,  he  asked  for  your  hand,  too. 

Louise  [Turns,  laughing.]  So  he  did. 
,.«,.— -^i^^  [lb  Brig.]  And  that  makes  you  laugh?  [To  Louise.]  And 
you,  too  ?  Well,  it  is  very  probable  that  if  he  had  spoken  to  me  I 
would  have  laughed  more  than  either  of  you.  [Gravely.]  Who 
knows,  perhaps  that  folly  would  have  been  the  most  reasonable. 
However,  it  is  decided. 

Brig  But — 
■■■6^  Don't  let's  say  anything  more  about  it.     It  is  decided.     [Ourt- 
8eys  and  laughs.]     Consider  me  an  ambassadress.     [Goes  r.  to  Louise. 

Brig  [c]  So  I  can  call  in  poor  Sartorys,  who  is  in  the  park? 

"  "  In  the  park  ? 

Brig  [Goes  up  c  ]  Yes ;  there  he  is,  look  at  him. 
m>»^l  [Laughing.]  Poor  fellow  !     Yes,  call  him  in. 

Brig  Sartorys,  here  !    Sartorys !    Come  here,  a  moment,  my  boy ; 
I've  something  to  say  to  you. 

Enter  Valreas,  l.  1.  e.,  in  full  evening  dress,  mth  a  large  camelia  in  his 
button-hole. 

Vol  Well,  you  see  I'm  not  late  for  dinner !     [Seeing  every  one  sUertt.] 
Hallo  !  something's  going  on  !  [He  goes  to  Brig,  l.  c. 

Enter  Sartob  rs,  quickly,  l.  u.  e.     Louise  advances  to  med  him.     Gilbertb 
remains  r.  c.     Sartorys  c. 

Louise  [To  Sartorys.]  You  will  dine  with  us,  Monsieur.     Gilberte 
begs  you  to  remain. 

[ Holding  out  her  hand.]  Yes,  I  ask  you. 
Sar  [Orosdng  Louise  and  Idssing  Gilberte' s  hand.]    Oh  !  if  you  only 
knew  how  happy—  [Louis'^,  saunters  up  o. 

mm '^  I  know.  [^They  go  up  r.  c. 

\al  [Aside  to  Brigard,  bringing  him  down.]  What's  to  become  of  met 
Brig  [Aside  to  Valreas.]  Well,  now,  I  hope  you'll  let  me  alone. 
TaZ  [Same.]  Then  I  suppose  I'd  better  look  after  the  widow  ? 
Brig  [Sa;.nc.  ]  She's  gone.  [Goes  up  c.  to  louiSlB. 

Vol  Gone?    Well,  that's  consoling. 


16  FROU  KROU. 

Enter  Baron  and  Baroness,  in  full  dress  for  dinnei ,  L.  1  B. 

Vol  Ah,  Baroness !  what  a  delicious  toilet. 
[Kisses  her  Imnd.     Baron  puts  glass  to  his  eye,  and  looks  on  Valrbas 
co^placerdh/.] 

Bar  [Aside  to  Valreas.]  What  is  going  on  ?    Ah !    M.  de  Sartorya 
and  Gilberte.     I  thought  so. 

Val  Exactly.     It's  a  match.     What  kind  of  music  would  you  sug- 
gest for  that  marriage  '?  eh  ? 

Bar  What  music?    Music  of  the  future.     We  will  wait  and  see. 

Val  Gilberte  gone !  the  widow  gone  !     Baroness,  I  have  no  one  tc 
adore  now,  but  you. 

Baron  [Nudging  Valreas.]     Go  it,  my  boy.     Fourth  attempt. 

[Takes  stage  R. 

Brig  To  Dinner ! 
[Brigard  and  Louise,  Valreas  and  Baroness,  S.^yaT0RYS  and  Gubeetb, 
Baron.     Curtain.] 


ACT    II. 

SCENE. — The  house  of  Sartoilys,  in  Paris.  Sofa  u,  front  to  audience 
Piano  behind  sofa,  up  and  down  stage.  Round  table  l.  h.  Chimney  L. 
H.  Large  mirror  over  mantelpiece.  Flowers  and  pedestals  about  room. 
Marble  bust  on  stand  o.  Picture  of  Frou  Frou  on  easel  above  l.  table. 
Chairs  r.  and  l.      Walls  covered  with  pictures.     Arm  chair  L.  of  table. 

Prrou    discovered,  hat  in  hand,  siUiiig  on  chair  l.  ,  with  book  and  roll  of 
music  in  hand. 

Pitou  The  greatest  folly  of  a  fashionaible  woman  is  to  appear  on  the 
stage  of  a  theater  ;  the  next  to  the  greatest  folly  is  to  wish  herself 
there  ;  and  the  folly  before  that  is  to  take  part  in  private  theatricals. 
[Rises.]  But  they  all  do  the  last — all.  [Goes  to  piano  and  touches  it.] 
Good  instrument — musical  taste,  evidently.  [Yawns.]  T  wish  some 
one  would  come.  I'  ve  been  waiting  five  minutes  since  I  sent  up  my 
card.  [Adjusts  eye-glass  and  looks  from  picture  to  picture.]  Not  bad — not 
bad. 

Bnter  Pauline,  l.  1.  e. 

Paidine  Madame  will  see  you,  sir,  in  a  moment.  She  expected 
you.     Monsieur  Pitou,  is  it  not  ? 

Pitou  Yes,  Mademoiselle.     M.  Pitou,  of  the  Theater  Palais  Royal. 

Pau  Oh,  yes '  you  have  been  anxiously  expected  by  Madame !  she 
wishes  to  see  you  about — about — pshaw,  about — 

Pitou  [Dryly.]  You  dor.'t  know  why?  [V A.v'Lni^  shakes  her  head) 
fou  her  maid,  and  not  know  what  she's  doing  ? 

Pau  Oh,  I  know  wh'^ii  she  goes  out  to  walk  >vith  M.  de  Valreas. 

Pitou  M.  de  Valreas  's  a  charm  mg  gentleman.  He  adores  Madame 
Sartorys '  eh  ? 


I'ROJJ  FKOU.  i7 

Pau  He  may  do  what  he  pleases,  but  Madame  adores  only  nei 
husband. 

Fiiou  And  does  her  husband  approve  of  this  little  affair  ? 

Fau  What  little  affiiir  ? 

Fitou  Why,  the  private  theatricals  that  Madame  and  the  Baroness 
de  Cambri  and  M  de  Valreas  are  getting  up. 

Pau  Private  theatricals  !  oh,  that  Baroness  !  she  never  gives  a  poor 
girl  a  chance  to  learn  anything  that  she's  up  to.     So  quiet  -so  sly ! 

Fitou  Yes,  very  quiet  now.  Once  on  a  time,  when  I  was  a  little 
younger,  she  was  the  belle  of  Paris — such  adventures,  too  !  Ha  ! 

Fau  And  so  they  are  getting  up  private  theatricals  !  and  is  my  lady 
going  to  act  in  them  ? 

Fitou  I  should  think  so  !  I  bring  her  the  prompt-book  and  music 
to-day  for  her  part. 

Fau  And  what  is  her  part  ? 

Fitou  Cleopatra,  in  the  burlesque  Vaudeville  entitled  "Antony 
and  Cleopatra."  Do  you  know  it?  [Pauline  shakes  her  head.]  Why, 
Cleopatra  is  a  little  grisette  who  lodges  in  a  garret.  Antony  is  a 
poor  devil  of  a  fellow,  who  lives  in  the  attic  next  to  hers.  They 
meet  at  ^  masked  ball — they  come  home  together — the  sheriffe  are 
about  to  seize  him  for  debt — she  lets  him  out  of  his  attic  into  her 
garret — they  elope,  and  the  curtain  falls. 

Fau  And  is  madarae  — a  lady — rich — distinguished— the  wife  of  a 
Statesman  like  M.  Sartorys— goiag  to  act  the  part  of  such  a  vulgai 
grisette  ? 

Fitou  [Shrugging  his  shoulders.]  It's  only  private  theatricals,  you 
know.  Besides,  tbe  Baroness  de  Cambri  and  M.  de  Valreas  se- 
lected the  part.  And  then,  you  know,  rich  ladies  like  to  act  the 
parts  of  saucy  servant  maids  in  private  theatricals.  They  love  to  im- 
itate the  low  lives  they  scorn.  Now,  you — you  would  like  the  part 
of  a  duchess  if  you  were  to  act — wouldn't  you  ? 

Fau  Wouldn't  I  ?    1  want  to  be  a  queen. 

Fitou  Why  don't  you  go  on  the  stage?    I'll  teach  you. 
You  have  a  good  figure,  if  it's  properly  dressed  ;  and  a  good  face,  if  it 
were  properly  painted. 

Fau  No,  sir  !  My  face  and  figure  are  natural,  and  I'm  proud  of  it. 

Fitou  Natural,  my  dear!  [Eying  her  through  glass,  and  patting  her 
cheek.]  You  mustn't  be  proud  of  nature  if  you  want  to  be  an  actress. 
No  one  wants  to  be  natural  on  the  stage,  where  the  daylight  is  gas- 
lamps,  the  moon  green  calciums,  the  landscape  painted  canvasses, 
the  gold  dutch  metal,  and  the  diamonds  tin  ! 

Fau  But  I  thought  actors  and  actresses  were  praised  because  they 
were  natural. 

Fitou  Nature — nonsense  !  The  actor  who  should  strive  to  be  na- 
tural would  be  a  blundering  booby,  and  the  public  would  like  him  as 
little  as  they  do  raw  meat  on  the  table,  although  meat  in  a  state  of 
nature  is  raw.  Human  taste  wants  cookery,  that  s  all.  Natural 
acting,  my  dear,  is  only  nature,  boiled,  baked  or  roasted.  [Music, 

Gilherte  [WithoijU:\  Pauline! 

Vau  Madame! 


18  FROU  FROU. 

Enter  Gilberte  c.  from  l. 

■    Gil  PaulJDe,  send  at  once  for  my  dress.     I  will  not  dino  at  hom« 
to-day,  and  I  must  have  that  dress.    I  must  have  it  l^efore  six 
o'clock. 
Pau  Yes,  Madame.  \Exil  r.  1.  b. 

^G4l  [To  PiTOu.]  You  have  lost  no  time,  sir. 


Pitou  Not  when  I  knew  it  was  Madame  I  was  to  oblige. 

[Bows  profoundly.l 
-6M-  You  know  me,  then? 


Pitou  Oh,  yes.     I  also  know  the  father  of  Madame — M.  Brigard — a 
very  lively  gentleman.     He  comes  very  often  to  our  theater ;  and 
sometimes  behind  the  scenes,  and  sometimes — 
Oiir  That  will  do.     What  have  you  brought  me  ? 

Pitou  [Giving  hook.l  Your  role  in  the  Vaudeville.     If  Madame  only 
knows  the  part  by  the  printed  book,  Madame  can  have  no  idea  of  it. 
This  is  the  complete  part,  with  all  the  gags  in  the  mox^m, 
"Oii  The  gags  !  [Sits  on  sofa.] 

Pitou  [c]  Yes,   Madame  ;    the   additions  which  the  actors  who 
played  in  the  piece  have  added  to  their  parts. 

(jliL  Very  well ;  and  now  we  want  the  music. 

Pitm  I  have  copied  it.  [Giving  roll. 

m^M  [Reading.]  Air:  **  Galop  du  Tourbillon."     What  air  is  that  ? 


Pttow  I  will  play  it  for  Madame.  [Goes  to  piano.']  Like  this. 
^"  Will  I  be  able  to  sing  that? 

Pitmi  Oh,  yes,  for  Madame  can't  have  a  worse  voice  than  some  of 
our  public  singers.     Will  you  practice  it  ? 
■..    dkl  Go  on,  I'll  try. 

[A  knock  is  heard  at  the  door.  Pitou  stops.     It  is  rq)eated. 
■'     SU'^[Tuming  towards  r.  h.]  Who  is  there  ?    No  one  is  to  come  in. 

Sartorys  [  Without.]  It  is  only  me,  dear. 
■"-"'^t^  Oh,  only  you.     Come  in. 

Enter  Sartorys,  r.  1.  e. 

My  dear,  this  is  M.  Pitou,  from  the  Theater.     Gro  on,  sir. 

Sar  From  the  theater  ? 

*  Yes,  you  kno7.r.     It's  about  the  little  piece  I'm  to  play  in  for 
the  benefit  of  the  poor. 

Sar  I  had  something  to  say  to  you — but  I'm  sorry  I  interrupted— 

'""'  Oh,   M.    Pitou  can  come  again.     You  can   come  again,  M.  ' 
Htou. 

Pitou  Whenever  you  please,  Madame.     You  have  only  to  send  me 
word  at  the  Theater  Palais  Pioyale.   [Saluting.]  Monsieur — Madame  ! 

Sar  [c]  Good  morning,  Monsieur.  [Exit  Pitou,  c.  and  l. 

[Coming  down  to  Sartorys.]  You  know  what  it's  all  about.  It's 
for  the  performance  -a  magnificent  performance— got  up  by  Madame 
do  Cambri.  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor. 

Sar  And  wli  it  does  Madame  de  Cambri  j|ay  in  this  rnagnificonl 
perf  rmance? 
-     ^d  She  d. n't  play  anything— she  gets  it  up. 


FROU  FROU.  19 

Sar  That's  her  way. 
■   Gil  flow  her  way  V 

Sar  L  mean  that  while  you  and  the  others  are  running  about,  act- 
ing on  the  stage,  she  is  sitting  very  tranquilly  in  front  with  the  other 
guests,  criticising  your  performance. 

jUU-  [Sitlini/  on  so/a.]   You  don't  like  her. 

Sir  I  don't  like  her,  and  I  don't  dislike  her.    She  is  merely  a  wo- 
man of  the  world — that  is  all 
»mMil  And  I  —what  am  I?  [Looking  at  him  roguishly. 

S>r  [Standing  beside  her.]  The  most  adorable  little  actress  in  the 
worli 

Very  pretty,  indeed.   [Tur?dng  over  the  leaves  of  her  part.]   You 
.  wished  to  soeak  with  me  ? 

Sir  Yos.  ' 

[Turning  over  Ihe  leaves  of  her  part  and  speaking  heedlessly.]  Speak 
away. 

Sir  [Looking  discontentedly  at  the  book  she  is  studying.]  It  was  about 
something  entirely  disconnected  with  this  magnificent  performance 
for  the  bjnelit  of  the  poor. 

<^kl  [Si'ne  bus.]  Something  serious ? 

Sir  Very  serious  !  [Same  bus. 

[Svne  bus.]   That's  nioe.     Go  on. 

Sir  [Tiking  chair  by  sofa.]  My  darling,  I  wanted  to  say— 

^il  [later rupHng  him.]   What  is  the  costume  of  a  debardeur? 

Sir  [Surprised^]  The  costume  of  a  debardeur  ? 

~il  Oh,  you  can't  make  me  believe  you  don't  know  what  the  cos- 
tum3  of  a  debardeur  is. 

Sir  Why,  the  costume  of  a  debardeur  consists  of  a  loose  silk  shirt 
and  a— a  —a  pair  of  little  panth.loons  of  velvet  or  satin. 

~ii  And  what  else? 

Sir  Hum!  Buttons— plenty  of  buttons. 
And  then? 

Sar  A  little  cap. 
■a  And  after  that? 

Sjr  Nothing. 

~il  Nothing  !  Oh,  I'll  never  wear  that  costume — not  even  for  the 
benefit  of  the  poor.  I  must  find  soifvirfthing  else.  And  now,  my  dear, 
I'm  ready  to  listen  to  you. 

Sir  V  ve  seen  the  Minister  of  State  this  morning. 

^^  [Putting  doicn  book.]  You  told  him  to  come,  of  course. 

Sir  To  come  where  ? 
To  our  performance. 

Sir  Well,  no  ;  but  I  will  tell  him  !     This  morifing  we  spoke  of  an 
appointment  they  have  for  me.     They  want  me  to  take  an  embassy 
abroad. 
'-'^i^-^^il  [Alarmed.]  Abroad? 

Sar  You  see,  there  is  nothing  in  Paris  they  can  give  me. 
-^Gil  [Pettishh/.]   And  where  do  they  want  you  to  go  ? 

Sar  To  Carlsruhe  !  Ambassador  to  Carlsruhe.   Isn't  that  splendid  ? 
^^^^^^^  Oh,  very  splendid.     And  how  far  is  Carlsruhe  from  Paris  ? 


20  FROU  FROU. 

Sar  I  don't  know  exactly — three  or   four  hundred  miles;  nftQ 
hours  by  rail. 

~  "  As  far  off  as  Baden  ? 
Sar  It  is  very  near  Baden. 
^M- [Rising.]  Near  Baden!  why  didn't  you  say  so  before.    [Grosses 


L.]  you  said  it  was  abroad.  I'll  tell  you  how  we'll  manage  it.  [ISar- 
TORYs  rises.]  You  shall  be  Ambassador  to  Carlsru he— that's  settled. 
[Sartor YS  takes  her  hand.]  I'll  go  and  pass  the  summer  with  you  at 
Baden,  and  the  balance  of  th^  year  you  will  come  to  Paris  and  see 
me  as  often  as  you  can. 
Sar  How ! 

[Gleefully  and  rapid y.]  And  I  may — but  mind,  I  don't  promise 
it — I  may  come  and  surprise  you  at  Carlsruhe. 
Sar  [In  a  tone  of  disappointment.]  But — 
"  [Stopping  astonished.]  Why,  you  didn't  think  of  taking  me  to 
Carlsruhe  ? 
Sar  Why,  yes. 

'Alone — we  two  way  off  there — all  the  year  ? 
Sar  Why  not  ? 

*  But  that  would  be  to  die — of  happiness,  1  know — but  to  die, 
nevertheless.  [Smiling  and  coaxingly.]  Come,  you  were  not  serious/ 
can  you  imagine  Frou  Frou  without  Paris  ? 

Sar  Well  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I   did !   [Gilberte  turns  away  pet- 
tishly.] But  I  see  I  must  do  one  of  two  things;  go  to  Carlsruhe  with- 
out you,  or  decline  the  mission. 
~"  [r.  h]  Well. 
Sar  [c]  I  have  decided. 
■#ii  [Interested.]  You  will  go  without  me?  ^ 


Sar  No  ;  I  will  decline. 
>-^!W  Ah,  that  will  be  right.  [Goes  to  him. 


Sar  Do  you  think  so  ?  I  doubt  it  myself.     But  one  thing  I'm  sure 
of — I  haven' t  the  heart  to  leave  you. 
""'Oii-  [Putting  her  arm  about  him.]  You   love   me,  then,  a  little   still, 
after  four  years  of  marriage. 

Sar  Yes,  Gilberte !  and  I  am  only  afraid  that  I  do  not  know  how  to 
love. 

[Archly.']  Oh,  yes,  you  ^o.  _ou  know  very  well,  for  the  very 
best  way  to  love  a  wife  is  to  let  her  do  everything  she  wishes — be- 
cause then,  you  know,  the  wife  is  bound  in  honor  to  do  everything 
her  husband  wishes. 

Sar  [Talcing  her  hands  in  his.]  Then,  if  I  aske^,  you  something — 

^ffi  After  what  you  have  done  for  me,  can  you  doubt  ? 

Sar  Then,  suppose  I  ask  you  not  to  play  at  this  performance. 
[Withdramng  her  hands.]  Oh,  my  love. 

Sar  Well. 

I  thought  you  were  going  to  ask  me  something  reasonable.  It 
is  impossible  for  me  to  refuse  to  play  now  ;  and  then,  you  will  see 
how  pretty  I  vnll  look  in  a  debardeur  costume — if  they  insist  on  it. 
But  in  anything  I'm  sure  to  be  pretty,  and  you  will  be  so  proud  of 
me. 


FROU  FROU.  21 

S(/r    What — with  the  pantaloons  ?  [Looking  at  watch.]  I  must  go. 
"'  Where? 

Sar  To  the  Minister,  to  give"  my  answer.     On  my  way,  I  will  see 
our  iittle  Georgie  in  the  Park. 
m»t<M  Isn't  Georgie  here? 

Sar  No  ;  we  took  advantage  of  the  beautiful  day  to  carry  him  out 
for  a  walk.     He  was  ill,  you  know,  this  morning. 
mw.it  0\h  He  was  ill  ? 

Sur  Didn't  you  know?     But  it  was  nothing. 

How  could  I  know  ?  I  told  them  to  bring  him  to  my  room 
ever)'  morning.  [Rings  hell  on  table  sharply.]  And  now  I  remember  I 
have  not  seen  him  to-day.  / 

Enter  Pauline,  r.  1  e. 

Pau  The  dress  has  come,  Madame. 

4iU  I  don't  want  the  dress — why  was  not  Georgie  brought  to  me 

this  Horning  ? 

PvM  The  nurse  brought  him  to  your  room,  but  you  were  asleep, 
and  yesterday,  when  we  brought  him,  we  woke  you,  and  you  were 
angry. 

''d  How  dare  you  ? 

Sar  [To  Gilberte.]  Never  mind.   [To  Pauline.]  You  can  go. 

Exit  Pauline  r.  1  e. 
I  was  angry  !  What  sort  of  way  is  that  to  speak  ? 

Sar  You  see,  I  wouldn't  permit  you  to  be  spoken  to  in  that  way. 
After  all,  [smiling]  she  was  right,  though.   [Gilberte  about  to  speak.] 
Now,  I  must  go. 
w*-»*«#«^  You  will  kiss  me,  at  least,  before  you  go. 

Sar  [Kissing  her  forehead  and  holding  her  for  a  moment.]  Ah,  Gilberte, 
Gilberte  ! 

Don' t  be  long.     You  know  I  dine  with  Madame  de  Cambri. 

Sar  When — to  day  ?  I  was  not  invited,  was  I  ? 

Oh,  no  !  All  our  husbands  are  to  be  excluded,  in  order  that  we 
may  have  full  liberty  to  talk  about  our  costumes  in  the  performance 
— you  can  dine  at  the  club,  can't  you? 

Sar  No  ;  I  have  some  writing  to  do  this  evening.  I'll  dine  at 
home. 

What— all  alone  ? 

Sar  Alone?  oh,  no  !  I  shall  have  Georgie.  Good-by.  [Kisses  her 
hand.]  Good-by.  [Exit  c.  and  Ij. 

*»*'^M/  [Snatching  away  her  hand  and  standing,  c,  pcmting^  With  Georgie! 
I  understand  what  he  means,  but  nothing  is  more  unjust.  [Goes  to 
sofa.]  It  looks  as  if  I  didn't  love  my  child.  [Sits.]  I  love  him  as  much 
as  any  of  the  women  that  I  know  love  their  children.  I  can't  take 
him  myself  to  walk  in  the  Park,  and  carry  his  hoop.  [Laughing  and 
dapping  her  hands.]  I  don't  know  but  that  might  be  a  pretty  sights 
though.  It  would  be  a  novelty,  anyway.  [Looking  at  clock.]  Bless  me, 
almost  three,  and  at  this  hour  the  Baroness  was  to  be  here  with  M- 
de  Valreas  to  rehearse  our  scene.  [Jumping  uj?.]  and  I  don't  know  a 
word  of  my  part. 


22  FROU  FROU. 

[OpeTis  the  pari  which  PiTOii  gave  her,  goes  io  piano,  touches  it  and  recites- 
"  I'  ve  a  pretty  litte  waist, 
Black  hair  and  eyes  of  blue." 

Brigard  appears  at  c. 

Is  that  you,  papa  ? 

Brig  [Ajjplauding.]  Go  on,  you  little  rogue,  go  on  ! 

wmt^Mt  [Singing.]         "  I  have  a  heart  that  burns  and 

A  fice  that  must  pleise  you." 

Brig  Ha,  ha,  ha !  What  are  you  singing  comic  opera  music  for  ? 

"   *  [Going  to  him,  c]  I  was  studjang  my  part.     I'm  so  glad  to  see  ' 
yon  -and  T^ouise? 

Brig  Very  well,  indeed.     I've  come  to  say  good-by. 

>7  Are  you  going  away  ? 

Big  Yes — to-morrow  mornino:.     I'm  oif  to  Bohemia. 
■■■im  Oit  To  Bohemia  !   [Laughs  ]  Have  you  been  appointed  Ambassador 
to  look  after  the  theaters  in  Bohemia  ? 

Brig  Nonsense,  my  dear.  It's  only  one  of  my  little  freaks.  You 
know  how  tlighty  I  am.     But  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about  Louise. 

~  -You  are  not  going  to  take  her? 

Brig  No — and  that's  the  reason  that — 
*«»-»ie«*?^W*  I  see  —you  want  her  to  come  here. 

Brig  Yes,  until  I  come  back.     I  shall  be  away  three  months. 

~  -Well,  she  shall  ;  but  not  for  three  months,  nor  for  six,  but  for 
always.  Since  she  has  taken  it  into  her  head  never  to  marry,  she 
shall  live  with  me.  You  know,  papa,  how  much  I  love  Louise,  and 
you  know  how  I  have  tried  time  and  again  to  induce  her  to  come 
and  live  with  me.  She  has  always  refused  before,  and  I  don't  know 
why. 

Brig  Don't  you?    Why,  she  was  afraid  of  incommoding  you. 
jf^JGkl  Why,  we  have  four  times  as  much  room  as  we  want. 

Brig  That  wasn't  it.     She  was  afraid  of  interfering  with  your  hap- 
piness. 
^cga0Kf'*^l  Oh,  that  was  all  very  well  during  the  honeymoon  ;  but  now, 
after  four  years — 

Brig  You'  d  better  not  talk  to  her  in  that  style — 
,:«..*4»W  I  know  how  to  talk  to  her  to  make  her  stay  with  me. 

Brig  Well,  she'll  be  here  to-day;  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  prevent 
her  going  away  again. 
.■^.■'^^'*€Hi'  I'll  do  that,  if  I  have  to  lock  the  door. 

[Baroness  appears  at  c. 

B'ness  Can  we  come  in  ? 
,0uii«iii*im»^^^  Certainly.  [Baroness  comes  down,  fdUywed  hy  Babon. 

Brig  [r.]  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  Madame,  since  it  allows  me  to 
bid  you  farewell  before  my  departure.  ^ 

Baron  [r.  c]  Going  to  leave  us,  Brigard  ?     Where  to,  now  ? 

B'ness  [c]  To  Bohemia,  I  understand. 

Barm,  I  believe  Bohemia  is  celebrated  for  its  hair-dye,  isn,t  it  ? 

Brig  Well,  I'm  not  going  there  to  lay  in  a  stock  of  hair-dye,  J 
assure  you. 


FROU  FROU.  23 

Baron  Well,  I  wouldn't  go,  cither,  if  I  wore  a  wig.      [All  laugh. 

Brig  [Orosdng  up  G.^^  He,  he,  he!  Very  funny.     Allow  me  to  wish 
you  good  day. 

B  ness  Good-by,  Bohemian. 

Brig  Respect  my  gray  hairs,  Madame. 

B'ness  [Looking  through  eye-glass.']  I  don't  see  them. 

Brig  True  ;  I  forgot.     I  haven't  had  time  to  grow  any  yet. 

Baron  Bravo !  Repent  of  your  sins,  old  boy,  and  turn  bald. 

[Brigard  exits  c.  and  l.  ,  followed  by  Baron. 

B'ness  [Sitting  on  sofa.]  That  horrid  man,  my  husband,  my  dear, 
met  my  carriage  and  would  come  with  me.  And  you  know  i  must 
humor  him  a  little  ;  he  has  a  claim  on  me.  He's  my  husband.  But 
what  is  this  I  hear  about  your  sister  Louise  coming  here  ? 
*««#<*  [On  sofa.]  Yes,  she's  coming  while  papa's  away  ;  and  after  that 
T  hop  3 — 

B  ness  You  hope  ? 
^^'i^l  That  she  will  never  leave  me. 

B'ness  [Regarding  her  closely.]  Ah!   [Pause.]  And  vou  will  take  her 
with  you  to  Carlsruhe  ? 
••*##  I  am  not  going  to  Carlsruhe ! 

B'ness  Sartorys  is  going  alone,  then  ? 
ms>€rU.  He  has  declined  the  mission. 

B'ness  I  congratulate  you,  my  dear.     See  what  it  is  to  be  loved. 
[Laughing.]  After  that  it's  unnecessary  for  me  to  ask  if  he  consents  to 
your  taking  part  in  our  little  theatrical  performance. 
*(3r«^  Well,  he  consents,  but — 

B'ness  Never  mind  the  ''  buts,"  my  dear,  so  long  as  he  consents. 
Have  you  studied  your  part  ? 
"'"'^Hi  All  but  the  last  scene. 

Bness  Oh,  the  whole  thing  will  be  a  great  suc^ss.     I'm  sure  of  it. 
And  Valreas,  who  is  to  act  your  lover  in  the  piece — 
—^''r^  When  he  does  act  it !     He  don't  study  a  word. 

B^ness  Oh,  he'll  play  it,  and  for  the  best  of  reasons. 
^'^i  What  is  that? 

B'ness  Hes  dead  in  love  with  the  person  he's  to  play  with. 
■""  OU  Dead  in  love  with  me  !  nonsense  !  you  who  know  him  so  well 
can  believe  that  ? 

B^ness  It's  jnst  because  I  do  know  him  so  well  that  I  say  it, 
"""^'^  [Crossing  tojj.]  Now  you  are  laughing  at  me. 

B  ness  [o.]  I  ve  known  Valreas  to  be  in  love  when  it  was  a  laugh- 
ing matter,  but  this  time 
-^  [l.  c]  Well,  this  time? 

Enter  Baron  c.  from  l. 

Baron  Ladies,  Valreas  is  coming  up. 
B'ness  [r.  c]  Now,  my  dear,  you  shall  see. 
Barm  [c]  Hey?  See  what  ? 
B'mss  Keep  quiet. 

[Baron  starts  up  sto^e— Baroness  crosses  to  Gilbert  l.  a 


24  FROU  FROU. 

ErUer  Valreas,  c.  from  l. 

Val  [Bowing  at  dooTJ]  Madame !  Ah,  Baron,  where  are  you  going  ? 
Baron  I?  I  am  going  to  keep  quiet.  [Sits  r. 

B'ness  [With  a  gesture  to  Gilbeute.]    Come,  Monsieur,  make  y^ur 
adieux.     The  news  was  true — your  friend  Sartorys  is  appointed  t© 
Carlsruhe,  and  Gilberte  leaves  us  in  eight  days. 
Val  [Starting forward.']  How? 

[Gilberte  looking  down  and  motionless 
B'ness  Immediately  after  the  performance. 
Val  [To  Gilberte,  with  emotion.]  You  are  going  to  leave  Paris? 
Bness  [Aside  to  Gilberte.]  What  did  I  tell  you? 

'  [Arousing  herself.]  Come,  let  us  begin  the  rehearsal. 

[Grossing  to  R. 
B'ness  [7b  Yalrbas.]  I  was  only  joking — she's  not  going  to  leave 
Paris — how  could  she  ? 

[r.  c]  Come — the  rehearsal. 
Baron  Rehearsal !     Bless  me !     Where  am  I  ?     What  part  am  I  to 
take? 

B'ness  That  of  a  spectator,  who  will  be  put  out  if  he  interrupts  the 
performance. 

Baron  Then  let  me  get  a  front  seat  [Brings  chair  down.  ]  And  now, 
go  ahead. 

Val  Let  me  see  what  is  it  we  are  to  rehearse. 
■    ■  OH  Only  the  last  scene.     I  haven't  read  it  yet. 


Val  [Crossing  to  L.]  Come  then — the  last  scene. 

Baron  If  I  don't  see  the  whole  performance,  I  want  my  money 
back.  [Baroness  crosses  to  and  expostulates  with  him. 

*■■   €Hi  [7b  Valreas.]  I'm  sure  you  don't  know  a  word  of  your  part. 

Val  Don't  I?  I  staid  up  all  night  to  study  it.  [Takes  part  out  of 
his  pocket.]  I'll  repeat  it  without  looking  at  the  book.  [7b  Baroness.] 
But  you  will  be  ready  to  prompt  me  ? 

B  ness  Oh,  I'll  take  care  of  that. 
•What  is  the  scene? 

Val  The  stage  represents  two  apartments,  separated  by  a  wall. 
I'll  fix  it.  [Places  2  chairs  in  c.  up  and  down  stage.]  This  is  the  wall, 
and  here  between  the  two  chairs  is  the  door.  [Places  a  third  chair  for 
door.]  Cleopatra,  that's  you,  in  one  room;  Antony,  that's  me,  in 
the  other. 

'But  I  thought  in   the  last  scene  Antony  was  in  Cleopatra' i 
apartment,     [l.  of  chairs.] 

Val  [l.  of  chairs.]  Oh,  we'll  come  to  that.  Now  take  your  place 
there.     Allow  me  to  open  the  door. 

[Pulls  away  middle  chair,  and  Gilberte  passes  through  to  r.  h. 
'  Now  we're  right.     Where  will  you  go,  Baroness  ? 

Baron  Come,  clear  the  stage. 

B'ness  I'll  be  prompter ;  give  me  the  book.  [Takes  book,  and  sUs 
L.  doum  stage  opposite  Baron.]     Now  we're  oif. 

«#*  Let's  begin  where  the  constable  has  just  gone- 

Val  To  look  for  the  Commissary  of  Police  ? 


FROU  FROU.  ^^^^^K^    -5 

That's  it. 

Val  You  commence. 

Baron  Ring  up  the  curtain.  [Commences  io  applavd. 

5' 71655  What  are  you  about? 

Barm  Giving  them  a  reception,  my  dear  ;  it  encourages  them. 

Gil  [n-iT-ftT^T  to  speak  naturally,  and  playing  a  little  awkwardly,  which  she 
must  do  throughout  this  "  rehearsal."]   "  He  is  gone  !     He  is  gone !" 

Val  [Playing  with  animation]   "Bravo!   bravo!     Hurrah!'* 

Baron  [Applauding.]  Bravo!  bravo! 
:     Val  [To  Baron.]  My  dear  sir,  you  put  me  out. 
;■    B'riess  [To  Baron.]   Will  you  be  quiet  ? 

Barm    I  thought  he  was  starting  the  applause.     Goon. 
•*-##-'*  He  is  gone !  he  is  gone !" 

Baron  Stop  !  stop  !  you  said  that  before. 

Val  [Coming  in  frmt  of  chairs  and  bowing  to  Baroness,  theii  Baron.]  The 
management  begs  me  say — 

Baron  Hes  going  to  apologize.     Some  of  the  actors  are  sick  ;  have 
to  change  the  piece. 

Val  — That   unless  order  is  preserved,  the  performance  can  not 
I  proceed 
-    Baron  [Applauds.     To  Baroness.]  I  suppose  he  means  me. 

B'tms  Sh  ! 
I  ■  ■  Gil  "  He  is  gone  !  he  is  gone !" 

Baron  Well,  this  is  the  most  vividly  interesting  play  I  ever  at- 
tended. 
■"  Oii  Please,  Baron  !     "  He  is  gone!     He  is  gone  !" 

[Baron  turns  away  in  disgust. 

"But  he  will  return  with  the  Commissary.     They  will  force  the 
door  !     Pray,  sir,  [as  if  through  wall]  no  more  of  your  fooling." 

B  ness  Very  good  !  Very  good,  indeed  ! 

Baron  [  With  the  air  of  a  connoisseur.]  Yes,  very  good  !     Really   very- 
good. 

^"€^ii  Isn't  it  ?     "  Pray,  sir,  no  more  of  your  fooling."     [To  Baron,] 
And  you  will  see  at  the  performance  I  will  do  it  even  better. 

B'ness  Now  you.      "  Ah  !  a  light — " 

Vaf.  1  know  without  prompting.     "Ah!  a  light  breaks  in  upon 
me.  I  will  clear  my  apartment,  and  put  ail  my  furniture  into  yours.'' 
"In  my  room?" 

Val  "Why  not ;  since  I'm  about  to  marry  you?" 

flti  "  Before  the  Mayor  ?" 

B'ness  [To  Gilberte.]  In  the  book  it  says  you  must  speak  that  line 
very  quickly. 
**'*T^  Haven't  I  said  it  quickly  enough  ? 

B'ness  [Imitating  Gilberte.]    No  ;  you  said  it  this  way — "Before  the 
Mayor !" 
'^  (M  [To  Valreas.]  Shall  we  go  over  it  again  ? 

Val  With  all  my  heirt.     "  Since  I'm  about  to  marrj^  you. 
"**'^W  [  With  a  rush.  ]  ' '  Before  the  Mayor  ?' ' 

[AU  ajfplaud  her* 

1  hope  that  I  did  It  then. 


26  FROU  FROU. 

B'ness  That  time  it  was  excellent. 
i«wn»i^«#r^  [Repeating.]   "  Before  the  Mayor?" 
Vol  "Quick  !  quick  !  open  the  door." 

"^  "»'"  No,  no;  I  dare  not.     [To  B'ness.]     What  do  I  do  then  ? 
B'ness  [Referring  to  book.]  The  book  says  you  run  to  the  window  and 
look  out. 

_  Oh,  yes  ;  so  I  do.     [Goes  to  side  and  pretends  to  look  out.]   "Ah,  the 

police  are  coming,  led  by  the  Commissary.     Gracious,  what  a  long 
sword  he  has  ;  and  heavens,  what  a  long  nose  he  has  !" 

Val  "  I'll  make  it  longer  yet,  when  I  get  hold  of  it.     Open  the 
door,  quick." 

B^ness    [Referring  to  hook.]    Now  you  open  the  door  between  your 
apartments. 

So  I  do  !     [Goes  to  chair  and  stops.]     And  what  do  I  say  then  ? 
B<iron  Why,  you  say  come  in. 

B'ness  No,  you  don't.     You  say,  "  So  much  the  worse.     Now  let's 
be  off." 

Baron  So  she  does.     I  forgot. 
"•^id    [Throwing  down  the  middle  chair,  which  represenU  the  door.]   "So 


much  the  worse.     Now  let's  be  off." 

Vnl  [Rushing  to  her  uith  outstretched  arms,  as  if  to  embrace  her.]    "  Now 
we'll  be  off," 
■■■■'#ii  [Eluding  him  in  earnest.]  Stop.     W^hat  are  you  going  to  do  ? 

[  Valreas  pauses . 
B'ness  What's  the  matter?     Go  on. 
Val  [Smili7ig.]  Madame  don't  seem  to  be  willing. 
B'ness  [Referring  to  book.]  He's  right.     The  book  says,  "He  kisses 
her  as  they  go  off." 

~"  Does  the  book  say  that? 
[Comes  down  to  Baroness,  who  shows  Jier  the  book.     Barox  also  looks  over 
it  with  eye-glass.] 
Baron  Yes;  there  it  is.     "He  kisses  her  as  they  gooff.  '     [With 
emphasis.]    I  should  like  to  play  that  part  myself.      [Cra^ises  to  his  seat 
again.] 

[l.  c.  very  promptly.]  Well,  we'll  go  off  without  that. 
Val  [c.  As  GiLBERTE  goes  up.'^   What  ?     I  agreed  to  play  the  part  on 
that  account  alone. 
umiM  Well,  perhaps  on  the  night  of  the  performance  I  may — 


Val  [Sitting  down.]  Very  well  ;  I'll  perform  it  very  badly  if  I  don't 
rehearse  it. 

Baron  Oh,  he  must  rehearse  it,  you  know.     Here  [Going  up.]   let 
meshjw  you. 

B'ness  Sit  down,  sir.  [Baron  subsides. 

'"'  Come,  let's  go  on  without  the  kissing. 

Val  No.     /wont  go  on. 

I  appeal  to  the  Stage  Manager.     [Turning  to  Baroness.  1     Ought 
he  to  kiss  me  at  rehearsal  ? 

B'nesn  Certainly —  [Gilberts  undectdea,  ano,  lurning  away. 

Besides,  my  dear,  you  know  it's  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor. 
pBijft^  [  With  an  emotion  which  she  tries  to  conceal.]  Well — if  you  say  so. 


FKOU  FROU,  27 

Baron  [Pitying  Gilberte's  distress.]    Oli,  well ;    come,   now  ;  if  she 
don' t  want  to. 
I   [Barovbss  makea  signs  for  him  to  be  nuiet.     Valreas  jumps  up,  approaches 
*  -      GiLBERTE,  lohose  hack  is  to  him  {her  face  bjtced,  and  turned  up  the  stage) 
and  then  stops.] 

B' iiess  Well,  what  are  you  stopping  for? 
/        Val  [Confused.]  I—        [Appro whing  nearer  to  Gij.t.erte,  with  respect.] 
I  Madame  ! 

^    [Takes  a  single  lock  of  her  hair  in  his  hand,  and  presses  it  to  his  lips.     At  this 
moment,  a  id  on  this  picture,  Louise  appears  in  c.  d.  Baron  and  Baroness 
ri'ie.     E'libarrassment  071  part  of  all      1jO\i\?,vl  comes  down  G.,  looking  with 
::<tonishment  at  all,  and  at  the  disordered  furniture.] 
Val  [Taming  and  picking  up  chairs.]  Take  care,  Mademoiselle,  one 
moment.      [Replaces  chairs.] 
Louise  Thank  you. 
1,     ff^^'  [To  Louise.]  We  were  rehearsing. 
Louise  I'm  sorry  if  I  interrupted  you. 

B'ness  Oh,  as  for  me,  I'm  glad  you  did,  for  we  were  almost  at  the 
end  of  the  piece,  and  [Looking  at  her  watch.]  I  had  almost  forgotten 
that  I  should  be  at  home  now.  [To  Baron.]  Come  along,  my  dear. 
[Goes  up  c.  as  Louise  crosses  down  l.,  and  speaks  to  Gilberte,  ivho  still 
remains  r.  u.  s.]  You  intend  to  keep  her  with  you?  [Baron  goes  over 
to  Louise,  and  tries  to  speak  with  her.  She  is  intent  on  watching  Gilberte 
and  Baroness.] 
■■-  ■0'ii7  Certainly  ! 

B'ness  Don't  forget  that  you  dine  with  me  to-day,  and  that  we 
have  another  rehearsal  to-morrow. 
^■"#1^  I  will  not  forget. 
B'ness  Come,  Baron. 

Baron  Certainly,  my  dear,     [c]     Somehow  or  other  I  don't  be- 
lieve that  young  lady  likes  my  wife. 
B'ness  [Up  l.  c]  Valreas,  your  arm. 

Val  [c.  Saluting  Gilberte!  Until  we  meet  again,  Madame.  [To 
Louise.]  Mademoiselle.  [Bows.  Louise  rdurns  the  salute  gravely. 
Valreas  and  Baroness  exeunt  l.  c.  Baron  goei  to  Gilberte  r.  c. 
Shakes  hands  ivith  her ;  tJien  crosses  to  Louise,  but  scared  by  her  demeanor, 
hurries  out  L.  C. 

[Running  to  Louise.]  My  dear,  dear  Louise. 
Louise  Dear  sister  !     [Kisses  her  affectionately.]     What  has  happened  ? 
'^il  [Archly.]   Don't  you  know  ?  [Lovise  signifies  '' No." 

A  great  happiness  is  in  store  for  me.    Sit  down  here  with  me.   [Placet 
her  arm  about  Louise  and  leads  her  to  sofa.] 
Louise  [After  they  sit.]  Well? 
•"""'"d^  [Taking  both  Louise's  hands.]  Suppose  I  have  a  sister  ! 
Louise  A  sister? 
i^  Yes ;   a  sister  whom  I  love  very  much  ;    and  suppose,  after 
being  separated  from  her  for  four  years,  I  find  her  again,  all  of  a 
sudden,  when  I  can  hope  to  keep  her  with  me  forever  ! 
Louise  What  do  you  mean,  my  dear  Gilberte  ? 


28  FROU  FBOtr. 


"■ '  "^li  That  now  you  are  come,  yon  are  to  remain  witl  me  all  mj 
life.     I  have  arranged  ifc  with  papa. 
Louise  But  I  hav'^e  heard  nothing  of  this. 

[Enter  Sartorys,  c.  from  L. 

Sar  [Taking  Louise's  handsJ]  Ah !  they  told  me  I  should  find  you  here 

i<?#  Have  you  seen  the  Minister  ? 

Sar  Yes. 

And  what  did  you  tell  him  ? 

Sar  "What  I  promised.     AH  is  finished. 

Ah  !  how  much  I  love  you  for  that.  And  to  console  you  for 
the  mission  you  have  lost  at  Carlsruhe,  I  give  you  a  mission  to  per- 
form here. 

Sar  A  mission  ? 

Yes  ;  and  an  important  one,  too.  Papa  is  to  leave  to-morrow 
for  three  months ;  and  he  and  I  have  arranged  that  Louise  shall  re- 
main with  us  while  he  is  away  ;  but  after  that — 

Sar  [Playfully.']  What  then  ? 
"  You  must  decide  the  rest. 

Louise  [Troubled.]  GiJberte  !  What  are  you  saying  ? 
'""  [To  Sartorys.]  She  thinks  that  she  will  incommode  us.  You 
must  tell  her  she  is  foolish  to  say  such  things  ;  and  that  instead  of 
being  in  the  way,  her  presence  here  will  be  of  the  greatest  service. 
You  know  how  to  manage  her  ;  and  you  can  persuade  her  to  stay,  if 
you  tell  her  she  has  a  duty  to  fulfill  here.  [Gilberte  throughout  this 
speech  is  speaking  to  Sartorys,  and  at  Louise,  to  whom  her  eye  now  and  then 
tcanders  significantly.]  Tell  her  that  there  are  ever  so  many  important 
things  for  her  to  do  here^ wearisome  things,  in  fact,  that  bore  me, 
and  exhaust  me,  but  will  make  her  happy — they  always  did ;  for  she 
loves  serious  duties.  [Rises  and  crosses  to  l.  of  him.]  You  tell  her 
everything  you  can  think  of  to  make  her  stay.  I  haven't  a  moment's 
time  to  spare  now  ;  and,  besides  [To  Louise.]  our  little  Georgie  loves 
you  so  much.  [Pointing  to  Sar.]  Only  see  how  lucky  it  is  you 
came  in  as  you  did,  for  he  was  going  to  dine  here— all  alone.  And 
now  you  can  dine  with  him.  [Jloving  off  l.]  I  give  him  to  you. 
You  must  take  my  place.  [Louise  rises,  as  if  about  to  speak. 

Not  a  word  ;  it's  fixed.     I'll  run  and  tell  them  to  serve  dinner  for 
two  ;  there  now.  [Runs  out  l.  1  e. 

Sar  [Taking  hands  of  LouiSE.]  Gilberte  is  right.  You  must  Bta} 
with  us.     I  won't  hear  any  denial.     It's  settled. 

Louise  But  it  is  not  settled. 

Sar  [Laughing.  [  Not  if  I  get  vexed  ? 

Louise  Not  if  you  get  vexed. 

Sar  Not  even  if  I  beg  you  to  remain  ? 

Louise  [Crossing]  Not  even  if  you  beg  me  to  remain. 

Sar  [Seriously.]  Louise  !  [Talcing  her  hands.]  You  will  render  Gil 
berte  and  myself  a  great  service  by  staying  with  us  ;  for>then  seme- 
thing  that  is  very  much  needed  in  this  house  will  he  needed  no  longer. 

Louise  [  Withdramng  her  hand.]  What  is  needed  here? 

Sar  A  wife 


FROU  FEOU.  29 

Louise  What  is  this  vou  tell  me  ? 

Sar  I  say  that  what  is  needed  in  this  household  is  a  wife  ;  and  you 
know  it,  although  you  pretend  tht^t  you  do  not.  [Ir'ause. 

Louise  [With  emoiion.']  What  has  happened? 

Sar  Nothing  has  happened.  Everything  is  the  same  now  as  always, 
with  us.     I  love  Gilberte  more  than  ever  I  did. 

Louise  I  know  it.  [  WitJi  a  smile.]  But  I  don't  see  what  gi'eat  miS' 
fortune  that  is. 

Sar  You  don't  see? 

Louise  No. 

Sar  Then  you  shall.  This  morning  I  was  appointed  Minister  to 
.     You  have  heard  of  it? 

Louise  Yes  ;  and  I  was  prouder  than  ever  of  you. 

Sar  I  told  Grilberte,  and  she  said  to  me  she  would  never  consent  to 
leave  Paris. 

Louise  And  then  you — 

Sar  I  refused  the  honor  they  would  have  conferred  upon  me.  I 
refused  it  for  her  sake  ;  and  with  the  same  satisfaction  that  I  would 
feel  in  making  her  a  present,  no  matter  how  simple.  And  yet  by 
that  refusal  I  know  I  have  saciihced  that  brilliant  fortune  that  had 
been  my  life-long  dream.  I  refused  it  because  I  love  Gilberte,  and 
she  permitted  me  to  do  so — because  she  loves  me  not. 

Louise  Sartorys! 

Sar  When  you  gave  Gilberte  to  me — because  it  was  you  who  gave 
her  to  me — 

Louise  {Turning partly  away.]     Yes  ;  it  was  I. 

Sar  You  said  tome,  "You  are  the  fittest  husband  for  Gilberte; 
and  her  frivolity  will  cause  me  less  fear  for  her,  when  she  is  the  wife 
of  a  man  so  wise  as  you."  You  did  not  think  then  what  so  wise  a 
.  man  as  I  could  become.  Those  faults  in  her  which  made  you  fear, 
and  which  I  might  have  cured  by  a  little  firmness,  I  refused  to  per- 
ceive then,  because  I  loved  her.  I  love  her  to-day  as  I  loved  her 
from  the  first ;  but  now,  after  four  years,  you  will  find  in  Gilberte 
the  same  faults,  only  the  faults  Aave  become  greater. 
^    Louise  But  her  child  ? 

Sar  She  adores  him.  A  little  while  ago  Georgie  was  seriously  ill. 
Gilberte  passed  eight  nights  at  his  side,  sleeping  but  an  hour  at  a 
,time.  By  day  she  was  never  from  him.  Her  love  and  watchfulness 
alone  snatched  him  from  the  grave.  He  recovered  ;  then  foi  whole 
;veeks  she  saw  him  only  five  minutes  in  the  morning  and  five  minutes 
at  night. 

Louise  Who  took  care  of  him  then  ? 

Sar  His  governess  ;  and  I,  when  I  could. 

Louise  What  you  tell  me  is  dreadful. 
i      Sar  Yes.     And  if  Gilbert  and  I  must  remain  alone,  abandoned  to 
I  one  another,  who  can  tell  what  will  be  the  end  of  it  all.     [Taking  her 
\  hands  again.]     But  if  some  one  else— 

Louise  Some  one  else — 

Sar  Some-  one  who  is  good,  and  kind,  and  wise,  woull  come  be- 
I  tween  us  ;   would  take  control  of  this  household,  which  every  ona 


m  FROU  FROU. 

neglects  ;  would  perform  those  duties  which  Gilberte  av<ld8,  and 
whidi  I  have  not  the  will  to  press  upon  her. 

LcuUe  But  you  must ;  it  is  jour  duty. 

Sir  1  know  it  is  my  duty  ;  but  I  have  not  the  strength  to  perform 
it  against  her.  You  can  now  see  hov/  the  danger  which  now  threatem 
tb'j3  house,  and  which  I  know  not  how  to  avert,  may  become  greatei 
e'  ery  day.  [Smiling.']  It  is  one  of  those  situations  of  which  it  ii 
afBcult  to  speak  without  a  smile  :  a  frivolous  wife  and  an  indulgeni 
nusband.  They  have  been  seen  before— they  will  be  seen  again  ;  and 
that  is  all  there  is  the  matter  here !  The  danger  is  about  us.  Neithei 
Gilberte  nor  I  can  avert  it ;  but  I  sincerely  believe  you  can  defend 
us  against  it. 

Louise  [III  a  low  voice.']  You  think  so  ?         *  \ 

Sar  We  must  keep  you  with  us.  The  course  pointed  out  by  Gifc 
bert  was  right ;  and  now  you  know  you  have  a  duty  to  perform.       ] 

Louise  [Facing  him.]  A  duty? 

Sar  A  duty.  And  never  was  an  accident  more  providential  thai 
that  which  sent  you  to  us.  ' 

Louise  It  is  well.     I  remain.  : 

Sar  Thanks. 

Enter  Vikcent,  tvith  a  package  of  letters  and  papers,  and  a  shaded  larr§ 
lighted,  which  he  places  on  table  R. 
Louise  [Aside.    Crossing  to  E.  h.  cor.]  This,  then,  is  their  happinessl 

[Musi/i.    \ 

£/!<«•  Gilberte  R.  1  e.,   "m  grande  toilette,''  noisily.     Georgie,  unpet^ 
ceived  by  her,  is  holding  on  to  her  skirt,  and  half  hidden  by  it. 

- 1  am  late.     [To  Vincent.]    Order  the  carriage  immediately. 
[Vincent  still  fixing  papers  at  table. 
Do  you  hear  ?  immediately  I     [To  Sartorys.]    She  will  stay,  won't 
she  ?  [Exit  Vincent,  c. 

Sar  Yes. 

[c]   Then  this  is  a  good  day's  work.     I'm  so  glad.     [Goes 
towards  Louise,  but  perceives  that  Georgie  has  hold  of  her  skirt.]     Taki 
care,  take  care  ;   you  will  tear  me !     [Rqndses  him  brusquely,  and  loc' 
at  her  robe.] 
Louise  [r.  c]  Come  to  me,  Georgie. 
Yes,  go  to  your  aunt. 

[Georgie  runs  to  Louise  and  embraces  her. 
'  You  see  you  did  well  to  remain.  Your  duties  begin  at  oncei 
You  will  all  dine  together  very  nicely.  But  let  me  see  :  before  I  go 
1  must  install  yt)U.  [To  Sartorys,  seating  him  in  chair.]  Now,  he: 
are  your  letters,  and  your  papers,  and  your  darling  politics.  [Sk 
tpreads  on  the  table  before  Sartorys  the  letters,  &c. ,  whic'ti  Vinoknt  brough 
17*.]    And  you,  Louise,  you  will  sit  there  in  my  place. 

[Places  arm-chair  by  chimney,  to  which  Louise  crosses  with  Georgie. 

Enter  Vincent.  G.from  l. 

\incent  The  carriage,  Madame.  lExUs  a 


FROU  FROU.  31 

IGoing  up  c]  Now,  I  nmst  be  off.  [Stops  in  doorway  and  ^ook» 
hack.]  How  charming  you  all  look,  that  way.  [Laughing]  A  de- 
lightful little  family  group.  [Kissing  her  hand  to  each.]  For  you.  [To 
Louise.]  For  Georgie.  For  you.  [To  Sartorys. 
[Exits  laughing  with  childish  glee.  Sartorys  looking  after  her*  Louisi 
bending  down  embracing  Georgie.     Quick  curtain.] 


ACT    III. 
SCENE.— iSfa7n«  as  Act  IL 

Enter  Baron  followed  by  Vincent 

Baron  [As  he  enters.]  You  are  sure  the  Baroness  has  not  called  here 
this  morning  ? 

Vincent  Positive,  Monsieur,  no  one  has  called  to-day  ;  not  even  M. 
de  Valreas. 

Baron  Why  do  you  say  **  not  even  "  M.  de  Valreas  ? 

Vin  Because  he  comes  here  every  day. 

Baron  The  young  jackanapes  !  and  what  does  he  come  for? 

Vin  I  suppose  to  see  master,  although  he  always  sees  Madame. 

Baron  [Looking  at  him  sharply.]  Eh  ? 

[Vincent  smiles,  shrugs  his  shoulders  and  goes  to  mantel. 

Baron  What  an  imprudent  little  creature  Gilberte  is !  The  ser- 
vants begin  to  talk,  and  what's  worse,  to  shrug  their  shoulders. 
Hang  the  rascals. 

[Goes  to  sofa,  picks  up  a  book  and  turns  his  back  on  others. 

Enter  Pauline,  r. 

Pauline  Vincent,  has  the  porter  returned  with  the  answer  to  Mad- 
ame's  letter? 

Vin  [  Yawning.]  The  answer  ? 

Pau  "The  answer" — Stupid,  yes,  the  answer — don't  I  speak 
plainly  ? 

Vin  [Lazily.]  Let  me  see,  the  letter  was  to  M.  de  Valreas,  wasn't  it  ? 

[Baron  looks  up  from  kis  book. 

Pau.  What  are  you  saying  things  over  and  over  for  ?  you  know 
Madame  is  waiting  impatiently. 

Vin  Yes?    Well  the  porter  has  not  yet  returned  with  the  answer. 

Pau  Theii  go  along  with  you,  and  don't  stop  dawdling  here.  [Vin- 
CFNT  curls  his  moustache  and  smiles.]     What  are  you  smiling  about  / 

Vin  Oh,  nothing  !  But  I  will  go  watch  for  the  porter  who  brings 
^•Jie  letter  for  Madame  from  M.  de  Valreas.  [Sauntering  up. 

Pau  What  airs  you  put  on.  Let  me  tell  you  if  you  look  that  way, 
*11  inform  Madame  S  irtorys. 

Vin  Oh,  no !  you'd  better  inform  M.  Sartorys. 

Pau  Well,  I  will,  if  you  like  that  better.   I  won't  allow  Madame'i 


82  FROU  FROU. 

name  to  be  smiled  at  and  shrugged  at  all  over  the  hoiist  by  yoTi  o; 
anybody  elae. 

Baron  [  Drop fing  hook. 1  Bravo!  That's  right!  [7b  Vincent.]  Nov 
you  ixo  and  grin  somev/here  else  about  the  house,  will  you  ? 

Vm  Certainly,  if  Monsieur  wishes  it,  with  pleasure. 
[BzUs  c,  with  final  smile  at  Pauline  who  turnry  away  impatiently,  and  he  got 
off  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

Fan  I  beg  pardon,  Baron. 

Baron  What  for?  For  defending  your  mistress  ?  Don't,  you  an 
right.     My  wife's  maid  does  the  same  thing.     I  like  to  hear  her. 

Pan  My  mistress  does  nothing  to  require  defense. 

Baron  That's  right.    I  like  to  hear  it. 

Pau  [Becoming  excited.']  Madame  is  everything  that's  good — but  these 
self-sufficient  valets  they  think  they  see  more  than  any  op6  else. 

Baron  So  they  do— but  they  don't. 

Pau  [More  excited.]  No,  indeed — for  there's  nothing  to  see. 

Baron  Of  course  not. 

Pau  [Quite  warmly.]  "What  is  there  in  Madame' s  receiving  sljA 
answer  to  a  letter ;  if  you  write  a  letter,  it's  natural  to  expect  ad 
answer. 

Baron  It  is — it  certainly  is — don't  get  into  a  passion  about  it. 

Pau  I  know  I  came  from  the  country,  but  I  know  my  place  better 
than  to  act  like  this  fellow,  who  is  always  talkinpr  and  shrugging  his 
shoulders  whenever  M.  de  Valreas  comes  here.  What's  it  his  busi- 
ness, I'd  like  to  know.  Suppose  your  servants,  Baron,  should  talk 
to  one  another,  and  smile  and  shrug  their  shoulders  whenever  a 
young  gentleman  came  to  see  your  wife,  and  suppose— 

Baron  [Uneasily.]  No,  don" t — don't  suppose  it.  My  servants  never 
smile  except  when  they  get  their  wages,  and  I  have  their  coats  made 
80  tight  that  they  can't  shrug  their  shoulders. 

Pau  Oh,  that's  excellent. 

Baron  Yes,  a  m^in  must  get  round  his  servants  somehow.  But  let's 
change  the  subject.  I'm  waiting  here  for  my  wife — she  usually 
comes  here  in  the  morning — that  is,  she  says  she  does. 

Pau  Oh,  yes.  Monsieur.  Sometimes  alone,  and  sometimes  with 
M.  de  Valreas ! 

Baron  [Crossing  l.]  Oh,  hang  de  Valreas  I 

Enter  Gilbebte,  r.  c,  salutes  Baron  who  hows. 

Boron  I  thought  perhaps  my  wife  might  be  here.  She  said  she 
was  coming.     If  I'm  not  in  the  way — 

■li>  [Coming  down  c]  By  no  means.  -  [^akon  goes  up  l.  c]    rauline  I 
Pau  [r.  c]  Yes,  Madame. 

[Low  ajid  with  emotion.]  The  messenger  has  not  returned  ? 
Pau  [Low  and  inodeslly .]  No,  Madame! 

Th?.t -will  do.  [£xzi  Pauline,  R.  1  E.]  [Coming  down.  Aside.] 
What  will  be  his  answer  ?  To  such  a  letter  there  can  be  but  one  aii« 
Bwer  ;  that  he  obeys  me,  and  will  leave  Paris  at  once. 


FEOU  FROU. 
thiier  Baroness,  c.  from  l.,  dressed  for  walking  and  in  a  great  hmnj. 

B'nes^  [71  Gilbert.  vAthout  regarding  Baron.]  Ah,  my  dear !  [Gomes 
'oinvard  with  outstretched  hands.'] 

Baron  [Quickly J]  Ah,  my  dear! 
'Advances  towards  her  with    outstretched  hands ;   she  passe?  him  and  goes  to 
'  Gilberts,  who  is  near  l.  c,  and  who  extendi  her  hands  quietly  and  with" 

out  demonstration.     Baron  ruhs  his  chin  and  goes  over  to  R. 

B'ness  Get  your  honnet,  my  dear,  and  come  out  with  me,  quickly. 

##  [lAstlessly.]  Where  ?  [Sits  at  table. 

B'ness  Oh,  such  a  sensation!  yon  remember  the  account  in  the 
reapers  about  the  jealous  husbands  in  the  Rue  du  Petit,  who  came 
5  iiome  suddenly  the  other  morning,  and  shot  the  other  poor  fellow,  and 
then  escaped;  you  remember  the  papers  were  full  of  it.  Well,  the 
house  is  going  to  be  sold— furniture  and  all^and  every  one  is  going 
there  to  look  at  it ;  not  to  buy  much,  only  a  keepsake  or  so.  You 
must  come  with  me,  we  will  pick  up  something. 

Biron  I  wouldn't  go  there,  my  dear,  if  I  were  you. 

B'ness  [Looking  at  him  through  eye-glass.']  Perhaps  not.  People  with 
bad  consciences  ought  not  to.  You  ain't  afrail  I'll  come  home  sud- 
denly some  morning  and  shoot  you  or  anybody  else,  in  our  house,  are 
you  ? 

Baron  No,  my  dear,  husbands  are  not  generally  shot. 

B'ness  More's  the  pity— they  deserve  ic. 

Baron  Oh  !  well,  my  dear,  if  you  do  go  to  this  sale,  and  pick  up 
**  anything  "  as  you  say — 

B'ness  Well? 

Baron  Don't  let  it  be  the  example  of  the  lady  of  the  house. 

[Exits  in  a  pet,  c.  and  L. 

B'ness  Rely  on  that,  dear !    By-by  !     But  come,  my  dear  Gilberte, 
put  on  your  things. 
■•»**^^.   [Seriously.]  You  must  go  without  me 

B'ness.   [c]  Why? 
wf^m  [Constrainedly.]  I  can  not  go.      But  don't  let  that  hinder  you. 
You  can  go  alone.  [Rises. 

B'ness  [Astonished  at  (jUJsert-e! &  manner.]  Of  course  I  can.  But  come 
here  a  little  my  dear.  [Usi?ig  Gilberte's  shoulder  to  turn  her  round.]  and 
let  me  look  at  you. 
000U  [Looking  at  her.]  Well  ! 

B'ness  [Drawing  a  long  breath.]    Hem!    I  don't  know  I     Too  serious 
for  such  a  pretty  face,  much  to  serious. 
■*#!l^  Does  that  make  you  uneasy  ? 

B'liess  Seriousness  is  a  bad  sign  in  a  house  that  is  not  used  to  it. 
And  what  makes  me  really  uneasy,  my  dear,  is  I  think  I  can  divine 
the  cause.  [Significantly. 

«R*fff?  No,  no,  you  can  not,  I  assure  you.  [Quickly. 

Bniss  So  much  the  better,  if  I  am  deceived— and  a  certain  hot- 
headed young  fellow  of  my  acquaintance,  named  7alreas  has  nothing 
to  do  with  it. 

[Starting.]  Valreas? 


«4  FllOU  FROU. 

B'ness  Hasn't  he  now ?    Not  the  least  bit  ? 
»«6W  Well,  yes,  he  is  concerned — 
JB'ness  [Interrupting  her.]  I  thought  so. 
Wt  IQuickb/.]  But  you  are  deceived  very  much  indeed,  if  you  thin 


there  is  tiaything  serious.     I  can  prove  it  to  you  in  a  few  ininulds, 

Enter  Vincent  with  a  letter^  c.  from  l. 

Is  that  the  answer  from  M.  de  Valreas? 
V'tn  Yes,  Madame. 
,,4*ts««««»«^f7  Ah  !   [Takes  letter  from  Vincent  and  opens  it  eagerly.    Vincent  exx 
(oolcing  back  and  ^hrugjln{j  his  shoulders  as  he  goes  off.      Gilbektu  hands  i! 
letter  to  the  Baroness.]     There  !   [Crosses  to  sofa  ivhile  Baeoness  reads. 
D'ness  [Reads']   ^^  You  order  me  to  leave  Paris.     I  go  to-night." 
td^  [Earnestly  and  turning.]  Nov/  you  see.  [Sitting. 

B'ness  I  see  that  there  is  more  danger  than  I  supposed.      For  hiii 
to  send  such  a  letter  to  you — you  must  liave  written  to  him. 

[Si-ting  beside  her. 
Of  course.  A  letter  in  which  I  ordered  him  to  leave  Paris. 
B'ness  In  which  you  ordered  him  to  ?  Come,  my  dear,  see  what  s 
position  you  are  in !  You  remember  how  I  laughed  at  first,  when  w( 
had  our  rehearsals,  let  me  see — two  months  ago,  at  Valreas  beinj 
smitten  with  you.  I  thought  it  was  only  play— an  agreeable  way  o- 
passing  the  time;  I  never  dreamed  of  your  taking  it  seriously,  for  l' 
thought  I  had  to  do  with  a  reasonable  woman,  a  woman  like  myself, 
and  if  any  one  had  suggested  seriously  that  I  should  fall  in  love  witt 
another  man  than  my  husband,  it  would  absolutely  look  to  me  as  if, 
after  submitting  to  a  sound  drubbing  for  the  sake  of  duty,  I  had  so- 
licited another  for  the  sake  of  pleasure.  Those  are  my  principles  ;  I 
thought  they  were  yours  too,  for  who  could  imagine,  that  Valreas,  a 
mere  boy,  a  charming  boy  to  be  sure,  but  perfectly  Liughable  as  a 
lover,  could  inspire  a  real  sentiment,  and  become — well,  I  won't  say 
dangerous. 
j^!!Si»«««^?  You  may  say  dangerous.  [Smiling. 

B^ness  No  I  won't.     I  don't  want  to  say  it. 

~  "' Yes,  dangerous!     And  I'm  glad  of  it.      [Baroness  s^arfe,]  Be- 
cause the  kno  tvledge  of  this  danger  thiit  I  run,  is  the  first  serious 
thought  which  ever  entered  my  head  ;   [Smiling.]  and  when  that  en- 
tered, several  others  equally  sjrious,  slipped  in  after  it. 
B'ness  [Warningh/ .]  Take  care,  my  dear! 
^j,sj!»«a^i«^'^  A  number  of  things  to  which  I  never  paid  any  attention,  now 
appear  to  me  i»i  their  true  light.     Do  yoa  remember  what  you  said  to 
me  the  day  I  told  you  mv  sister  was  coming  to  live  with  us  here  ? 
B'ness  What  did  I  say? 
'You  said—"  Ahl" 
B'ness  Well  that  wasn't  much. 

Well,  after  Louise  had  been  installed  here,  I  began  to  perceive 
that  it  was  less  agreeable  to  me  than  I  thought  at  first.  When  I  saw 
her  take  so  gently,  so  aptly,  my  place  beside  my  child,  beside  my 
hisband,  ther)  came  to  me  certain  thought's,  and  I  recalled  your 
*'  Ah  !"  and  I  >egan  to  understand  it. 


FROU  FROU.  35 

B^iiess  Porliapii  it  would  Lave  been  better  if  you  bad  not  sceii  so 
much, 

■i^^-^^l  [Resoluieli/.]  1  saw  what  I  ought  to  see,  and  nothing  more  ;  but 

1 1  sliall  put  a  stop  to  all  this  by  taking  a  decisive  step. 

L  [Rising  exdiedly. 

\    B'ness  \  Alarmed.']   \  decisive  step  ? 

P^Wfr:'  [CrosHing.-]    Tes. 

B'neb^  [Rising.]  What  step?  you  frighten  me. 
tes*vh6^  [Excitedly— returning  and  stopping  c.J  I  am  determined  to  regain 
f  tlie  place  i  have  lost ;  to  commence  to  live  very  differently  from  the 
!  manner  in  which  I  have  lived  up  to  this  day.    [Baroness  smiles  incred 
ulous'j/.]  You  don't  believe  that  I  can  ? 

B'ness  Oh,  yes,  I  believe  it. 
mrmGil  [Orossiug  to  sofa.]  JBelieve  it  or  not,  as  you  please,  I  am  decided. 

[Sits. 
B'ness  [Goinq  over  to  her.']  A  word  of  advice,  my  dear  Gilberts. 
Drop  your  grand  resolutions.  Don't  become  a  stupid,  jealous  wife- 
don' t!  Come  with  me — run  in  debt — live  faster  thin  ever — show 
yourself  at  the  opera  in  a  dress  that  will  draw  every  eye  upon  you — 
or  better  than  that,  ride  a  velocipede  in  the  Park  !  Do  whatever  you 
like,  but  make  it  something  in  that  line  !  People  will  talk  about  you, 
you  v/ill  get  a  bad  name  perhaps,  and  every  one  will  believe  you  are 
a  gone  case,  but  you  will  be  saved !  At  the  rate  you  are  driving,  you 
fear  you  will  be  run  away  with  and  dashed  to  pieces ;  so  you  are 
frightened  and  want  to  jump  out.  If  you  do  you  will  be  destroyed. 
Don't  jump  out — on  the  contrary,  whip  up  your  horses,  drive  along 
flister  than  ever,  and  the  husband  of  whom  you  are  now  jealous  will 
follow  you,  will  be  jealous  of  you,  and  joi\  will  be  saved.  That's 
wisdom  !  That's  my  advice.  [Rising.]  Will  you  put  on  your  hat,  m/ 
dear,  and  come  with  me  to  see  the  house  where  the  one  poor  devil 
shot  the  other  poor  devil  ? 
»«^#?"Z'  [Pleasantly.]  No. 

B'ness  [Going  up  o  ]  Well,  you're  wrong.     Good-by,  dear. 
-#*  Good-by ! 

B'ness  [Returning]  Gilberte,  I  beg  of  you — if  you  won't  follow  my 
advice,  listen  to  this,  at  least.  If  I  were  in  your  place,  I  would  stay 
home  for  forty  eight  hours,  and  during  that  time,  I  would  think  of 
nothing,  do  noth*:  g,  but  try  to  beoome  calm. 

■iniii^gtf;  [Excitedly  rising,  and  crossing  abruptly  to  L.]    I  have  never  been 
calmer,  or  more  tranquil. 
B'ness  Oh  !     I'Tien  good-by,  my  dear. 

[Exits  c.  and  l.     Gilberte  rings  bell  on  table. 

Enter  Pauline  l.  1  e. 
Pan  Madame. 

Has  M.  Sartorys  gone  out  yet  ? 
Pau  I  believe  not. 

Say  to  liim  I  wish  to  speak  with  him. 
Pau  Yes,  Madame.  [Exits  l.  1  b 

'•^  1*'^'^  Ifng  at  N^vlreas'  letter.]    Poor  fellow !     The  Baroness  was 


86  FROU  FROU. 

right ;  who  would  ever  believe  that  he  could  become  seriously  in  love  f 
For  he  does  love  me  ;  and  he  leaves  Paris  !  It  is  well.  [Tears  letter 
up  in  little  pieces  and  throws  it  in  Jireplace.]  All  is  over  And  now  we  will 
see  if  my  dear  sister  will  consent  to  yield  to  me  the  place  which  is 
mine. 

Fnter  Louise,  r.  1  e.,  dressed  for  the  ttred,  and  putting  on  gloves, 

Louise  Good  morning,  Gilberte ! 
^ggsgrn^^"^  [c]  You  are  going  out  ? 

JEnter  Sartor\'S  l.  h. 

Sar  You  wish  to  speak  with  me,  Gilberte? 

^ni> »it€^  [Merely  turning  her  head.]    Yes  I  [To  Louise.]    Where  are  yoB 

going  ? 

Lo  ise  To  Madame  de  Lussy's  ;  she  recommends  the  new  governess 

we  have  engaged  for  Georgie. 

.^^:.->^Oil  [Aside  and  bitterly.]    TFe  have  ^nf aged !  [Aloud.]  I  Avill  go  myself. 

Sar  [Sitting  c.  Laughingly.]  If  you  ^o  to  Madame  de  Lussy's  I  know 

in  advance  what  will  happen.      You  ^ill  both  chat  for  an  hour  over 

some  new  toilet,  and  never  once  think  f)f  the  governess.  Let  Louise  go. 

>vMj.i. #iY  [Turning  away  to  the  L.]  Be  it  so. 

Louise  [Dpc.    To  Sartokys]    Don't  forget  that  you  are  to  go  at 
three  o'clock  to  see  about  that  little  jr^perty  we  wish  to  buy. 
Sar  [Gaily.]  I  shan't  for'^et,  my  little  man  of  business. 
•.s««w^'#i^  [Aside.]  That  we  wish  to  buy. 

Louise  Is  that  all  ?    Yes — let  me  see !  yei,  that  is  all.    By-by.  Frou 
Frou  !  [Kisses  Utiberte,  and  exits  c.  and  L. 

Sar  [His  manner  is  paternal — a  little  to^y  paternal,   during  this  scene,] 
"Well,  my  darling !  [Brings  his  chair  down  c.  and  makes  Gilberte  sit  on  a 
stool  beside  him. 
..       Gil  [tlolding  down  her  head.]  I  wanted  to  *,^^I  jou — that  is — 
Sar  Is  it  something  very  hard  to  say,  thca " 
"  '  Yes,  very  hard— it  is  something  like  a  r\">nfoS5ion. 
^7*  [Earrtesily.]  A  confession  ? 
w€f^  I  was  going  to  accuse  myself — 

Sar  Ah,  I  see  ;  we  have  been  extravagant-  -  wo  bavo  run  into  debt, 
Frou  Frou  ?  [Pattwg  her  head, 

^i^iijii,^ ^^  [Imp'itiently.]  No,  it  is  not  that. 

Sar  Of  what  have  you  to  accuse  yourself  theL  ? 
■^^gtf^g^nm^QU  Can  you  not  imagine  ?  [Sartorys  shakes  h^i  h-^d.]  Of  having 
been  a  little  frivolous  and  giddy — even  after  our  raair^ge.  even  after 
the  birth  of  little  Georgie — in  fact,  of  having  always  lemaincd  Frou 
Frou,  and  of  not  having  become — 

Sar  Is  that  all  ?    Why  you  almost  frightened  me.     I  soe  n'>tb]ng 
vtjry  dre;idful  in  all  that. 
-.^-^«'#«  Nothing? 

Sar  Nothing  at  all ! 
.-^e^!>f^*^l  But  some  time  ago  you  spoke  differently.      No,  rf^V^-r^  ]  you 
did  not  speak,  but  in  place  of  words  your  face,  your  sUencr  »teel/ 


FROU  FKOU.  87 

seemed  to  utter  the  fears  that  troubled  you  then,  and  to  show  me  the 
danger  that  threatened.  [PuUmg  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

Sar  Yes,  that  was  two  months  ago,  but  since  those  two  months — 

Oit  Since  then — 

Sar  Louise  has  been  here. 

GU  Louise ! 

Sar  All  the  danscer  has  disappeared  ;  and  now  if  it  should  please 
Frou  Frou  to  be  more  Frou  Frou  than  ever,  the  harm  would  not  be 
very  great,  since  in  your  place  Louise  does  everything, 
ww'ri'tf  And  how  if  I  wished  to  attend  myself  to  those  things  which  my 
sister  takes  such  good  care  of  ? 

Sar  What  an  idea,  now  that  every thiiig  is  working  so  smoothly 
and  safely. 
^  0il  You  think  everything  is  safe  ? 

Sar  Look  around  you,  my  dear  Gilberte,  and  tell  me  if  you  ever 
saw  a  house  better  ijoverned  than  ours  since  Louise  has  taken  control. 
See  what  care  she  takes  of  G-eorgie,  and  how  well  she  is  bringing  up 
the  child  ;  and  even  I  my?elf,  have  you  not  noticed  that  since  Louise 
has  been  here  I  have  acq'iire  I  a  certn,in  air  of  content? 
"  iW  [Earne'^tly.']  But  if  I  really  wished — if  I  were  really  resolved  io 
become  better  and  wiser,  and  to  govern  myself  ? 

Sar  Your  zeal  is  too  praiseworthy  not  to  be  encouraged,  and  I  will 
encourage  it  by  all  the  means  in  my  power,  but — 
■"nS*  But  what  ? 

Sar  But  if,  despite  your  resolution  and  my  encouragement,  thie 
ardor  should  die  out.  and  at  the  end  of  a  week,  or  say  a  fortnight, 
my  little  Gilberte  bo'X)mes  weiried,  don't  consider  yourself  bound  t/j 
continue  !  Return  &s  fast  as  you  please  to  your  plea  urcs,  your  tri 
umphs,  and  your  gaieties  ;  neither  my  face  nor  lay  silence  shall  ro 
proach  you  arid  I  shall  be  content  to  remain  the  husband  of  the 
prettiest  darling  and  most  adored  Uttle  wife  in  the  world. 
"-(rfi''  [Rising  and  .peaking  quietly.']  Ti>at  appointment  which  was  offered 
you,  and  wliich  you  re i used  on  my  account  ? 

Sar  No,  I  can  not  go  there  now.  Uovernmenl  might  have  felt  hurt 
at  my  refusal,  b^it  on  the  contrary,  I  have  been  treated  with  marl^ed 
kindness,  and  I  have  now  in  Paris  a  position  almost  equivalent  to  the 
other.  All's  well  that  ends  well,  and  so  you  see,  you  really  have  not 
as  much  to  reproach  yourself  with  as  you  thought. 
■*#il  [Lno^^  dt  him  peculiarly  for  a  second  i,pd  then  goe'i  to  chair  ?m  of  small 
table.]  VIKali  I  really  see  is,  that  all  my  beautiful  projects  are  rejected. 

Sar  O'a,  1  give  you  full  credit  for  them. 
'■■'#!*  fjjrcastkally.]  Really. 

Sef  ibroing  to  her.]  And  1  wish  to  rewar*^  yon  fc  ih^vc^^     That  gpan 
«^  ho»-5es  you  liked  so  mi:ch,  and  which  1  the^ugh).  so  expensive. 
i*W  I  don't  want  them  now. 

Sar  [Astonished.]  You  don' t  want  them  ? 

Enter  Brigaed,  o.  from  i». 

Bng  Good  Tt<>viiin;5,  daughter. 
Scar  Ah^M.  ^^^s«^ii 


5fi  FTIOU  FROU. 

Brij  Good  morning,  my  dear  boy. 

S(xr  You  have  come  just  in  time.  Gilberte  is  a  little  nerrous,  and 
you  know  how  to  put  her  in  good  humor. 

Brig  [To  Gilberte,]  Nervous  I    Now  really. 

^  '  Good  morning,  father. 

Brig  Oh,  it  won't  last !  You  must  do  me  a  particular  favor  daugh- 
ter. The  other  day  when  you  were  skating  in  the  Park,  you  wore  a 
new  kind  of  cap — and  Madame  de  Laurens,  who  saw  ycu  in  it,  want? 
one  just  like  it.  I  promised  to  get  the  pattern  for  her  !  I  knew  you 
wouldn't  refuse  me,  your  father,  and  so  I  promised  her. 

[Gilberte  rings  hdl  on  table. 
You  really  will  ? 

"  I  will  give  orders  to  have  it  brought  to  you. 

Brig  That's  an  angel. 

Enter  Pauline,  l.  1  e.     Gilberte  whispers  to  her.     Brigard  takes  Sar- 
TuRYS  down  R.  H.  corner. 

Brig  [.46-w7«  to  Sartorys.]  Hum!  my  boy,  don't  mention  Madame 
de  Laurens  or  the  cap,  to  any  one  outside.     I'll  do  as  much  for  you. 

[Pokes  him  in  the  side. 
Sar  [Gravshf.]  As  you  wish. 
[They  go  vp.    Pauline  exits  l.  1  e.  Gilberts  crosses  to  sofa  r.  ,  and  sits. 

S'jr  [To  Brigard.]  I'll  leave  you  with  Gilberte,  do  try  and  restore 
her  spirits.     I  don't  know  what  it  is  affects  her  to-day. 
Brig  All  right,  my  dear  boy. 

[_Gocs  to  mantel  l.  ,  and  arranges  his  hair  before  glass. 
Sar  [To  Gilberte.]  So  that  span  of  horses  ? 

no  !    How  many  times  must  I  tell  you? 
Sar  [Smiling  gaily.]  Well,  then,  you  know  I  am  a  positive  man,  and 
sfhethar  you  want  them  or  not,  you  shall  have  them. 

[Goes  to  Brigard  c,  and  whispers. 
Brig  She  won't  have  a  span?  then  give  her  a  four-in-hand. 

Sartorys  exits  c   and  l.  laughing. 
[Abjde,  feelinjly.]  When  I  want  to  come  back  to  him  and  be 
really  aiit-  irnly  his  wife,  that  is  how  he  treats  me. 

Brig  [Cvo-.ung  to  piano  ]  Do  you  know,  my  love,  your  husband  is  a 
very  nice  fe^/^ow  ? 

\l  After  ail  he  is  right.      Louise  is  here.      I  am  iiot  needed  any 
more  \    He  sixuks  to  me  as  if  1  were  a  child. 

Brig  [Touchiry  the  piano.]  Very  nice  fellow  !  Very  nice!  [Gilberte 
htirsti  into  tears.  Uising  in  astonishment  and  coming  round  to  her.]  What, 
tears?    What  dvx^s  this  mean,  Gilberte? 

[Taming frxn  him.]  Nothing,  father,  nothing! 
Brig  Nothing  fc.a^ous  has  happened,  I  hope  !      And  even  if  it  be, 
am  I  not  here,"l,  w  ar  father  ? 
'  '  [BiU^^dy]  Ol\  jes! 

Brig  "Oh,  ycs!"  What  do  you  mean  by  *'0h.  yes?"  T  know 
that  now  and  then  I  \\{xj  seem  to  be  a  little — and  then  ray  hair  isn't 
— eonfoimd  it  but  tLt* '  doesn't  prevnt  my  being  your  father  after  all. 


FROD  FROU. 

Enie?'  Pauline,  l.  1  e.,  withcc^, 

And  as  your  fatlier,  I — 
Pau  Is  this  what  you  wished,  Madame  ? 

What's  that?    Yes  that's  it.   [Talrea  it,  and  hands  it  to  het  fath^; 
and  hand  hotdiny  handkerchief  to  her  eijen.]  That  is  what  you  asked  for  ? 
Brig  [Takiny  the  cap,  but  cr/ibarrassed  ]  Being  your  father  as  I  said — 
yes^  [Looking  at  cap]  That's  it !    Being  your  father  as  I  said- 
Well,  what  more  do  you  wish  ? 
Brig  Nothing,  but — 
~~  '  [Smiling  in  spite  of  hei'seV.']  But  what  ? 

Brig  Well,  that's  not  the  point  now.   [Giving  cap  to  Pauline.]  Have 
this  taken  to  my  carriage.  [Exit  Paullve,  o.  and  l.]  Deuce  take  me, 
it  shan't  be  said  I  haven't  done  my  duty  once  in  my  life  !   Come  now, 
daughter,  tell  me  v/hy  you  were  crying  a  while  ago. 
For  nothing,  father. 
Brig  For  nothing? 
^^i#**6^  Yes,  you  know  there  are  times  when  we  feel  so.  [Sits  o. 

Brig  Yes,  there  are  moments  !  I  feel  that  way  myself  sometimes. 
But  tell  me  ;  there  is  something  serious  in  all  this,  and  the  affection 
I  have  for  you — you  don't  doubt  my  affection  I  hope,  and  if  you  have 
need  of  a  protector,  you  wouldn't  hesitate  to  fly  to  my  paternal  ;  eh  ? 
And  those  tears — your  nerves ;  eh  ?  Oh,  yes,  that's  it,  nerves  !  I 
was  sure  of  it !  Just  my  way !  We  needn't  worry  any  more  about 
it.  And  now,  let's  speak  of  Louise  ;  I  might  as  well  attend  to  her 
case,  now  that  I  am  started  on  family  topics.  [Sits  beside  Gilberte. 
'■"  "'  "fflZ  [Quickly.']  Louise ! 

Brig  [Being  uncomfortable  in  chair  c. ,  goes  to  r.  and  sits  in  arm-chair.] 
Yes,  Monsieur  de  Villaroel  comes  here  pretty  often,  don't  he?  I  may 
say  very  often. 

^^*'^ '<M  [Smiling.]  Well,  yes. 

Brig  And  you  never  suspected? 
mn«mimioa  What  could  I  have  suspected  ? 

Brig  Well,  I  didn't  suspect  either.  I  have  two  daughters,  and  1 
should  once  in  a  while  suppose  that  once  in  a  while  some  one  might 
fall  in  love  with  one  as  well  as  the  other.  And  that's  exactly  what 
has  occurred.  I  have  just  received  a  visit  from  M.  de  Villaroel,  and 
the  reason  why  he  called  here  so  often  was— Louise. 
■**'***'^?i  For  Louise  ?  He  proposed  for  her?  [Rises  and  goes  to  Brigard. 
_         Brig  Yes,  he  loves  her,  and  asks  her  hand. 

*■■""'  l^  [Sitting  on  Brigard' s  knee.]  Oh,  you  dear,  s:ood  papa  !  you  can't 
imagine  how  happy  this  news  has  made  me.  There  can  be  no  reason 
for  refusmg  such  an  offer.     Have  you  spoken  to  Louise  yet  ? 

Brig^  No,  not  yet.     I  would  have  done  so  had  she  been  here— and 
most  likely  she  would  have  answered  me  as  she  has  always  done— 
that  she  don't  want  to  marry. 
*'^^****15'!?  [Rising  and  firmly.]  She  must  not  answer  that  now. 

Brig  No,  certainly  not.  She  must  not !  Strange  woman  your  sis- 
ter— eh  ?    How  she  dislikes  going  into  society;  and  her  determination 


10  FEOU  FROU. 

not  t(  inarry.     Do  you  know  wliat  I  think,  Gilberte  ?    Louise  muat 

tave  loved  some  one  once. 

[^Deeply  moved  and  turning  away."]  You  think  so  ? 
Brig  She  must  once  have  dreamed  of  a  happiness  of  which  we  know 
nothing,  and  which  she  has  lost. 

[Turning  suddenly.']  Father! 
Brig  [Rising  ahrupdy  and  looking  at  his  watch.']  Well,  just  turn  it  over 
m  your  mind  and  see  if  it  doesn't  seem  prohahle. 

[Croes  to  glass,  takes  his  hat  up  and  arranges  his  hdr. 

But,  father —  [FoKowa  him  to  c. 

Brig  You  can  easily  find  out  all  ahout  it.  Between  women,  espe- 
[jially  hetr.een  sisters,  things  may  be  said  which — there,  there 
you  must  question  her.  Say  to  her,  too,  that  M.  de  Vallaroel  is  a 
charming  gentleman,  high  estate,  plenty  of  money,  no  vices — and 
«he  must  positively  consent  to  marry  him. 

[Resolutely.]  Oh,  as  for  that !   [Shaking  her  head  with  determination. 
Brig  You  will  do  all  you  can  to  make  her  consent  ? 

[Firmly.]  Yes,  everything  in  the  world — and  she  shall  consent. 
Brig  [c]  Well,  that's  fixed.  Since  you  take  it  in  hand  there's  no 
need  of  my  bothering  about  it.  [Gilberte  smiles.]  There,  you  are 
5milinf?  again  !  It  does  me  good  to  see  that !  But  when  I  see  you  cry 
as  you  did  a  little  while  ago — I  feel— there,  there  !  you  must  not  be 
unhappy,  Gilberte !  you  must  not !  Do  you  know  that  if  ycu  took  it 
into  your  head  to  be  unhappy  I  should  be  an  abominable  father  ?  But 
you  won't,  will  you  ?  [Oiie  arm  around  her  waiit  while  he  arranges  his  shirt 
bosom  with  the  mMr.]  You  love  your  paternal  parent  too  much  !  You 
will  be  happy,  if  not  for  your  own  sake,  at  least  for  your  dear  father's 
Bake.  [Kissing  her.]  You  promise  me,  don't  you?  Good-by.  Don't 
forget  to  talk  to  your  sister  as  soon  as  she  comes  in.  [About  to  go.]  Ah, 
what  did  I  do  with  that  cap  ?  Oh,  I  remember,  it's  in  my  carriage. 
Tah,  tab,  Frou  Frou !  [Exits  c.  and  l. 

wmtkl  [Solus  c  ]  She  will  not  refuse  this  time  !  She  can  not  refuse ! 
But  if  she  should  ?  If  she  will  not  leave  us — if  she  will  still  remain 
between  me  and  my  happiness  ?  What  shall  I  do  then  ?  Who  wiU 
save  me  from  the  wretchedness,  the  fate,  to  which  they  drive  me.  I 
have  no  husband,  no  father,  to  whom  I  can  turn  !  Ah  !  my  child, 
my  child  is  left  me.     He  is  there  and  near  him  I  can  be  strong 

Enter  Vincent,  c.  from  l. 
What  is  it? 

\in  {Smiling  meaningly.]  Monsieur  de  Yalreas —  [Gilbbete  #forfe.]  He 
dcfiires  to  know  if  Madame — 
■■■M>  Valreas  I  will  not —  [Sees  Vincent  smile  and  look  at  her  in  a  manner 
of  p-eculiar  inquiry.]  Show  in  M.  de  Valreas,  and  tell  Pauline  to  dress 
Gcorgie  inmiediately  and  bring  him  to  me  :  J  will  take  him  out  for  a 
walk. 

Enter  Valreas  c.  from  l.     Vincent  exits,  c.  and  l.     Gilbeete  iurnt 
harshly  to  Valeeas,  wIu)  comes  forward  a  single  step. 

Do  you  know  why  I  consent  to  receive  you  ?     Because  that  servant 


FKOU  FKOU.  41 

stood  there  and  seemed  to  question  why  I  close  my  doors  agaiastjou. 

Val  [All  earne  tness.]  1  have  but  a  few  words  to  say. 
fil^nSo  much  the  better,  f<.'r  I  have  but  a  few  moments  to  8})are. 
[Pauses.]  Why  have  you  come  here  afier  that  letter  which  I  wrote 
you?    Could  you  not  understand  that  we  must  meet  no  more  ? 
Val  In  that  letter  you  ordered  me  to  leave  Paris. 
*^--^«***«#  Well? 

Val  I  leave  to-night.     Did  I  not  tell  you  so  ? 
^0mi»^^U  [More  harshly.]  I  know  very  well  you  told  me  so,  but  what  proof 
have  I  ? 

Val  You  have  no  right  to  doubt  me.      To  you  I  never  spoke  any- 
thing but  the  truth. 

[Soflening.]  Veiy  well — you  will  go.     I  wish  it.     You  should 
have  gone  without  trying  to  see  me. 
Val  I  could  not. 

[Harshly  again.]  You  could  not  ? 
Val  You  must  not  ask  too  much  ?    Think  of  what  I  was,  and  what 
I  am.     Who  would  recognize  me  ?    I  would  have  laughed  at  any  one 
who  would  have  predicted  that  I — one  day,  would  feel  as  I  felt  after 
reading  your  letter.   At  first  I  thought  1  would  be  strong — leave  Paris 
without  seeing,  without  speaking  to  you. 
That  is  what  you  should  have  done. 
Val  I  did  not  have  the  courage.     After  a  few  moments  this  enthu- 
siasm left  me — I  could  think  of  but  one  thing — That  T  was  to  be  sep- 
arated from  you ;  it  overcame  me !      I  thou,i!:ht  that  if  you  had  the 
right  to  ask  such  a  sacrifice  of  me,  I  had  the  right  to  ask  of  you  a 
few  words  at  parting  ;  a  few  words  that  would  give  me  strength  to 
obey  you. 

Well,  I— 

Enter  Pauline,  l.  1  e. 
Pau  Madame — 

[  With  a  joyful  cry.]  Ah,  Georgie  !    Bring  him  to  me  at  once. 
Pau  But,  Madame— 
iwmm^il  [To  Valreas,  interrupting  Pauline.]  I  have  no  time  to  spare.     I 
am  going  out ;  you  understand,  T  am  going  out  with  my  son. 
Pau  Master  Georpjie  is  not  here,  Madame. 
^^m^H  [Aghad.]  Not  here? 

Pau  No,  Madame.  Mademoiselle  Louise  took  him  with  hei  when 
she  went  out. 
iim^ititm^l  [Violently.]  Louise  !  [Trying  to  calm  herself.]  Very  well,  Pauline-- 
since  Mademoiselle  Louise  has  taken  him  out,  that  will  do.  [Exit 
Pauline,  l.  1  e  Gilberte  si7iks  into  a  chair ^  l.]  Not  even  my  child  h 
left.     She  has  taken  from  mc  everything. 

Val  iTremhling  and  coming  a  step  toivard  her.]  Gilberte ! 
m^^s^^  [Taming pleadingly  to  him.]  Oh,  you  will  go,  will  you  not?  Yt>\3 
must  go  now,  more  than  ever.  Swear  to  me  you  will  go.  You 
know  that  I  do  not  love  you,  that  I  v,  ill  never  love  you.  You  should 
know  it — and  you  love  me  ;  that  is  why  you  must  tly  me  !  Under- 
stand me  well  ;  if  I  were  frivolous,  coquettish,  as  they  have  paid,  and 
bad  at  heart,  I  would  keep  you  near  me  to  laugh  at  your  sufferings! 


42 


FROU  FROU. 


Maoy  women  would  do  this,  but  I  will  not.     You  will  go — you  will 
forget  me— ^you  must —  [Valreas  turns  from  Iiei-.]  but  not  too  quickly. 

Val  [Turning  and  tjking  her  /land.]  Oh,  Gilberte  !  Gilberte  ! 

^"  [Withdrawing  her  hand.']  To-night !     You  will  depart  to-night! 

Enter  ^ARTORY^,  c.  from  Ja.    Yalreas  faces  him.     Gilberte  turns  away 

Sar  You  here,  my  dear  Paul  ?    They  did  not  tell  me. 

"  '  M.  de  Valreas  comes  to  make  his  adieux.  He  leaves  Paris 
to-night. 

Sar  Not  for  long,  I  hope.  Paris  will  not  be  consoled.  [Offering  his 
hand.]  Hope  to  see  you  back  soon.  [Grosses  to  arm-chair  near  l. 

Val  Thanks.   [Bowing  to  Gilberte  ]  Madame  ! 
iiii«ii4jo^  [c]  Farewell.     [Eo:it  Valreas  c.  and  l.J  I  have  done  my  duty, 
let  me  see  if  the  others  will  do  theirs.  [Aside. 

Sar  [In  chair  l.]  Well,  my  dear  Gilberte,  did  your  father  succeed 
in  enlivening  you  a  little  ? 

— wi^tf.  [Going  up  and  towards  n.]  What  my  father  said  tome  was  not 
precisely  of  a  nature  to — [Ijoans  over  the  back  of  Sartorys'  chair,  and  as 
he  looJcs  up  at  her,  she  looks  him  full  in  the  face,  and  says.]  Louise  is  about 
to  leave  us. 

Sar  [Starting  abruptly.]  What  ?  [Pause. 

""'  [Coldly.]  M.  de  Viilaroel  has  asked  her  hand  in  marriage,  and 
she  will  become  his  wife. 

Sar  r  Very  quickly^  It  is  impossible. 

~  "'{Coldly.]  What  do  you  mean?  A  moment  ago  you  made  a 
strange  movement,  and  now  you  have  uttered  a  still  stranger  remark. 

Sar  [Recovering^  I  acknowledge,  that  at  first  I  could  not  avoid  a 
feeling  of  selfishness  ;  I  was  so  sure  Louise  would  never  leave  us.  But 
I  was  in  the  wrong,  and  I  regret  it. 
jtiin <i^rf  Then  you  will  speak  to  her  when  she  comes  in? 

Sar  [Quickly.]  Speak  to  her  ?    Then  nothing  is  decided  yet  ? 

~  "-No.     Louise  as  yet  knows  nothing. 

Sar  Does  it  not  seem  to  you  that  you  would  be  better  able  to — 
■-[c.]  I  ?  What  have  I  to  do  with  serious  things  ?  Do  I  under- 
stand them,  I,  Frou  Frou?  Now  if  it  were  to  talk  about  a  new 
toilette  with  Madame  de  Lussy.  [Throics  hei^self  into  sofa  and  doublet 
hertelf  up  like  a  little  girl  in  a  pet.]  I  will  not  speak  to  her.  You  must 
do  it  ^  and  if  I  have  any  advice  to  give  you,  it  is— speak  to  her  so 
that  you  will  decide  her  to  go.  [Markedly  spoken. 

Sar  [Astordshed  at  her  tone.]  How  ! 

Enter  TjOuisb,  c.  from  l.     Gilberte  during  the  ensiling  suene  is  immovable, 

except  now  an'i  then  to  look  at  Louise.     Louise,  as  she  enters,  takes  chair  q. 

and  commences  to  take  off  her  hat,  gloves,  &c. 

Louise  I  have  saen  IMadame  de  Lussy,  and  I  have  seen  the  new  gov- 
jRtness.  She  is  a  very  nice  person,  and  will  come  to  us  in  a  few  days. 
\To  SAX?.Tonys.]  And  yon — 

S'r  YC^ravelii.]  I  have  seen  about  the  purchase.  But  we  have  some- 
thing Vx\  .re  seiious  to  speak  of  now. 

Louisf  ^loru  serious  !     For  me  ? 


FEOU  FROU.  4» 

Sar  Yes.    A  marriage ! 

2k)?/ !.<fe  What —again  ? 

Sar  Tiiis  time  M.  de  Villaroel.  [Pause.]  Ah,  you  don't  say  what, 
to  that.  I  notice. 

Louise  Well,  RI.  de  Villaroel  is  one  of  the  most  distinguvshed  men 
?of  the  age.     I  should  of  course  feel  a  little  pride  at  hiii  asking  for  my 
hand,  and  I  do— and  a  great  deal  of  joy,  too  ! 
»— 6We  [//?  ^ercs^ed.  ]  Ah! 

Lytisp.  {Ga^iiiig  off  her  cloak  or  mantel]  Yes,  a  great  deal  of  joy  ; 
for  when  it  is  known  I  have  refused  to  marry  a  man  like  him,  it  will 
be  fully  understood  that  I  will  marry  no  one,  and  then  I  hope  they 
will  leave  me  alone. 

Sar  You  refuse  / 

Louise  Certainly  I  refuse.  [Going  near  Jam  at  table  and  sitting. ]  Re- 
member, two  months  ago  I  would  not  come  here,  but  you  insisted  on 
it.  ISO  much  the  worse  for  you  ;  for  now  that  I  am  here,  I  mean  to 
stay.  [Laughin(jly. 

Sar  But  let  us  look  at  it  in  the  proper  light. 

Louise  [Rising  and  speaking  with  er.ioion.']  Unless  you  are  displeased 

with  me,  both  of  you  ;  unless  those  duties  which  you  call  wearisome, 

and  which  you  gave  into  my  charge,  have  not  been  well  performed — 

Unless  you  tell  me  that  in  staying  here  I  am  useless  ibr  your  comfort 

_  or  your  happiness  — 

Sar  [Crossing  to  her.]  No,  Louise — ^but  this  has  nothing  to  do  with 
our  happiness.     It  is  of  yours  I  speak. 

Louie  Of  mine  ? 

Sar  Of  yours. 

Louise  Then  let  me  stay  with  you  two,  if  y=ou  wish  to  make  me  hap- 
py, because  I  can  not  be  happy  if  I  am  not  here.  Woman's  character, 
to  be  complete,  has  two  sides ;  one  is  all  youth,  grace  and  pleasure — 
[Indicating  Gilbertk.]  that  is  hers.  The  other,  which  is  all  gravity 
and  busy  employment,  is  the  one  which  pleases  me  the  most.  This 
side,  necessary,  but  ungracious,  which  you  as^ed  of  me  as  a  duty,  I 
now  ask  of  you  as  my  happiness.  Besides,  if  you  should  send  mo 
away  now,  I  would  not  go. 

Sar  I  CVossiw  to  Gilberts.]  You  hear  what  she  says  ? 
■■     Oil  Yes. 

Sar  You  know  as  well  as  I  that  when  she  makes  up  her  mind,  it  ia 
useless.  [Laughs, 

Louise  [Gaily.']  Altogether  useless. 

Sar  [To  Gilberte.]  Still,  if  you  would  like  to  try  yourself. 
|^'|"""6^ij-  [Shortly,  and  putting  h^r  feet  to  floor.]  Yes,  I  will  try. 

Sar  [c,  to  Louise,  and  taking  her  hand]  I  don't  change  my  opinion, 
my  dear  Louise,  and  I  think  you  ought  to  consent.  But  you  give  me 
BO  much  pleasure  by  your  refusal,  that  I  have  not  the  heart  to  insist 
further.     Not  now,  at  least. 

Louise  Not  now,  and  never. 

Sar  [Pressing  her  hands^  and  gently.]  You  will  repent  when  the  right 
one  comes 


44 


FKOU  FROU. 


Jxmise  You  tnov^  v^ery  well  that  ivhat  I  say  to-day  I  8 
filways. 
[JExit  Saetokys,  l.  1  b.     Music  pp  till  Gilbeute  speaks.     Louise  goes  iiip 

towards  c.  to  exit,  hut  is  intercepted  by  Gilderte  who  has  risen  and 

jpassing  hehijid  the  piano  comes  face  to  face  with  her. 
wmd  Where  are  you  going  ? 

Louise  To  get  a  book  that  Geor^ie  asked  me  for ;  it  is  in  your  room_^ 
.  ^r^i-^^^miBil  [Resoldtely.']  Georgie  will  wait  for  his  book.     [Louise  steps  bac^ 
astonished  at  the  tone  and  look  of  Gilberte,  leaving  her  in  c.     Louise  l.  0. 
below  Gilberte.     You  refuse  this  marriage  which  is  offered  you? 

Louise  Yes,  I  refuse. 
^..#«««w"^Z  [Smiling  sarcastically  J]  And  is  it  that  you  may  continue  to  watchi 
over  our  happiness  that  you  do  so  ? 

Louise  Gilberte !  [Shnnking  back  a  step. 

.,-«i*#*w»iiiiiiOi^  [Trying  to  suppress  anger.']  A  worthy  reason.     [Advancing  a  step."] 
And  I  ought  to  thank  you  for  it.    But  what  I  have  to  blame  you  for 
is,  that  you  have  not  equally  divided  your  attentions  in  this  house 
hold  between  my  husband  and  me.     And  for  having  bestowed  the: 
more  cheerfully  on  one  than  on  the  other. 

Louise  [Putting  down  things']  Sister,  what  do  you  mean ? 

[Bitterly.]  That  you  have  lavished  your  care  upon  my  husband, 
upon  my  child,  but  me  you  have  neglected.  And  there  you  \\  ere 
wrong,  because,  had  you  looked  around  you,  you  would  have  seen 
that  of  all  the  dangers  which  threaten  this  home  that  you  wished  to 
preserve  so  much,  the  gravest  of  all  might  strike  it  through  me. 

Louise  I  do  not  understand. 

[Rapidly.]  Do  you  not  ?  Within  this  hour  M.  de  Valreas  was 
here  at  my  side  swearing  that  he  loved  me.  [Louise  starts  in  fear.] 
I  told  him  that  I  loved  him  not. 

Louise  [Breathless.]  Well? 
It  was  false ;  I  love  him. 

Louise  And  you  confess  it  ? 

[Sarcastically.]  This,  then,  my  sister,  is  something  which  yon 
did  not  see  with  pJl  your  care,  and  it  is  what  you  should  have  f  een 
before  everything  if  you  had  performed  well  that  duty  which  you 
accepted  at  such  heroic  cost.  [Louise  about  to  speak.  Gilberte  wwes 
her  to  silence.]  But  I  suppose  that  the  absorbing  attention  you  be- 
stowed on  one  side  hindered  you  from  watching  the  other. 

Louise  [Coldly.]  What  you  wish  to  tell  me  is  that  you  love  ValreaB 
— is  that  it  ? 

Two  months  ago  there  was  no  such  thing ;  but  within  tliose 
two  months  many  things  have  passed.  That  love  has  had  time  for 
birth  and  growth  !  What  at  first  was  but  a  jest  has  become  a  da:  gel 
—a  danger  so  great  that  when  I  saw  you  had  no  thought  of  me,  to 
saving  me,  I  tried  to  save  myself.  My  husband,  my  child,  I  trie  '  to 
return  to  them.  But  my  child  was  no  longer  mine;  you  had  come 
between  us. 

Louise  I  will  go,  Gilberte.  ^ 

■'■:ffs^i^^€hl  You  have  estranged  my  child,  and  for  my  husl>and — 

Louise  Your  husband ! 


FKOU  FROU.  46 

"^^'^B  When  I  saw  you  jast  now  beside  him,  I  recalled  the  past— my 
fUSs  acions  of  other  times  and  my  suspicions  to-day. 

Louise  Your  suspicions  ? 

>44^  Do  not  force  me  to  say  what  I  do  not  wish. 

Louise  Say  it!  Speak  the  words  which  burn  on  your  lips — that 
foUi  years  ago  I  loved  your  husband — is  that  it  ? 

4:4^  You  dare  speak  of  it  ? 

Louise  Yes,  I  did  love  him,  but  it  was  you  that  he  loved,  and,  be- 
lieving that  your  happiness  depended  upon  his  love,  I  took  your 
haiii  myself,  and  placed  it  in  his,  ^nd  that  nothing  should  hinder 
yoTii-  consent  to  that  marriage  I  pretended  to  be  glad,  and  yet,  at 
tha^  very  moment,  I  sacrificed  my  heart  for  you — for  I  loved  him! 
I  loved  him ! 

'^Sarcastically.']  And,  by  the  next  day,  I  suppose,  your  love  had 
vanished. 

Lionise  Not  so.  I  suffered  long,  and  perhaps  my  sufferings  and 
saci  ifice  merited  another  recompense  than  this.  You  have  forgotten 
your  repeated  efforts  to  make  me  come  and  live  with  you,  and  the 
surprise  that  my  refusal  caused  you.  You  have  forgotten  that  I  did 
refuse  to  come. 

[Sternly.']  But  you  fmished  by  consenting. 

Louiae  Because  I  had  conquered  myself ;  because  I  was  sure  I  no 
lonj^er  loved  him. 

[Bitterly.]   Indeed!     Was  it  not  rather  because  you  thought 
the  moment  better  chosen  ? 

Louise  Gilberte,  you  shall  not  speak  to  me  so. 
*^i6i'»j^  [Commandingly.]  It  is  the  truth. 

Louise  Gilberte !  Sister !  Was  it  not  you  who  wished  me — 
'**<#«^  Ah,  you  knew  well  how  to  make  me  wish  what  you  desired 
most ;  you  are  wise,  my  sister,  and  I  was  but  a  child  in  your  hands. 
You  knew  well  what  you  were  doing  after  you  had  married  us— after 
you  had  sacrificed  yourself  for  us— since  you  knew  one  instant  would 
suffice  for  you  to  regain  all  that  you  boast  you  have  given  me,  since 
now  he  is  yours. 

Louise  [Terrified.]  Gilbert,  I  will  go,     I  will  leave  you. 
■^^^fS^  Another  sacrifice  stiU.     No !    It  is  not  you  this  time  who  will 
go. 

Louise  What  mean  you  ? 
■"^IS^I-  Heaven  is  my  witness  that  I  was  sincere  in  my  effort  to  resist, 
to  dofend  myself ;  but  I  am  not  strong  enough  for  a  lifetime  of  such 
efforts. 

Louise  \ Motionless  with  horror.]  What  are  you  about  to  do  ? 
'***'*^f#>  [Going  up^  c]  I  acknowledge  that  I  am  conquered !    Take  my 
placj!     I  give  it  to  you. 

ixmse  Where  are  you  going  ? 

^Pm  Ask  me  nothing. 

Lcuise  Gilberte ! 

^kJiflt  [Ln  0.  doors,  turns  and  faces  Louise  and  speaks  furiously.]   Hug* 
band,  child,  everything  you  have  taken  from  me !     Keep  them  welli 

[Closes  the  doors. 


46  FKOU  FROU. 

Ljui&i  {Rumdng  to  door  and  hcjfing  against  U.']  Gilbarte !     Gilberte ! 

ACT  DROP. 

ACT   lY. 

SCENE. — The  palace  of  the  Barherini,  at  Venice.  An  ancient  interior.  Th 
arched  balcojvj  and  columned  entrance  is  seen  al  the  l.,  occupying  the  staae 
to  3i  groovi^.  The  en'.ranze  from  t]r.  canals  u  through  trie  arch  l.  o.  The 
entrance  and  exit  for  interior  is  l.  1  e.  The  cxnalj  and  view  of  Venice 
under  a  fidl  sunset  light,  is  seen  upon  the  r.  up  stage,  and  through  the  hd- 
cong  off  L.  Si/ige  down  n.  for  2  entrances.  Garden,  r.  n.  Garden 
sofa,  L.  H.  1  rustk  chiir  L.  oftci'jle,  and  1  up  stage.  Zanbito  discovered 
leaniny  out  of  bilzoag  l.  o.  ,  listening  to  Bircarole,  which  is  being  sung  by 
a  piriy  passing  in  gondolx  at  back.    After  Barcarole,  enter  Pauline,  l.  1  iA 

Pauline  Zanetto !  Ah !  there  you  are,  as  lazy  as  ever !  Come, 
stir  your  idle  Italiaa  leg?.  Madame  wants  you  to  rua  to  the  lodgings 
of  the  Count,  and  t3ll  him  she  will  expect  him  at  tea.  [Seeing  t'lat  he 
doesn't  stir.]     Come,  wake  up — look  lively — run  ! 

Zinetto  Run  ?  Whoever  saw  Zanetto  run  ?  It's  not  my  business 
to  run  of  errands. 

Pau  It  isn't  ?    What  is  your  business  then  ? 

Zan  My  business  is  to  carry  with  grace  the  costume  of  the  native 
gondolier  of  sunny  Italy  ;  to  sing  the  national  airs,  and  to  eat,  drink 
and  be  merry,  like  a  true  sunny  Italian.  Nevertheless,  to  oblige 
Madame,  I  will  carry  the  message  to  Monsieur  de  Valreas. 

Pau  I  thought  you  would,  since  he  gives  its  value  in  gold  for  every 
message  you  bring  him. 

Zan  [Coming  down  c]  Ah  !  we  descendants  of  sunny  Italy  are  very 
poor,  and  the  Count  is  very  liberal.  Not  so  liberal  as  your  lady, 
though.     See  how  beautifully  she  has  fitted  up  this  old  f-alace. 

Pau  Yes ;  and  she's  only  been  hero  six  weeks,  to  do  It  all.  But  it 
cost  her  a  deal  of  money  to  make  your  dirty  old  paJace  ^c  to  live  in. 

Zan  Money !  I  believe  you.  And  talking  of  mon^jy  [P'ulls paper  out 
of  his  pocket..']  look  at  this. 

Pau  What's  that?  One  of  your  Italian  lovft  Bonf^s,  dedicated  to 
me?     [Taking  paper.] 

Zm  No  ;  it's  a  little  bill,  dedicated  to  year  'ady.  And  here's 
another  They  amount  to  2000  francs ;  not  rr.rx?.  A?t*  sr.ch  a  princess 
as  your  lady,  but  a  fortune  for  us  poor  sons  o'l  fcijyf  Icaly. 

Pau  [Taking  bills.]  All  right,  mv  sunny  l'a]>i\.     And  uow  go. 

Zan  I'll  fly.  [Aside.]  No  doubt  I'll  mef.r  'Jit'.  Cor.iit  on  the  way 
here.  I  always  do.  And  of  course  he'li  /J^i  fs  jouoh  for  half  the 
distance  as  the  whole.  ISj-^rArs  off  Inzily  l.  c.     y. 

Pau  Well,  I've  heard  of  romantic  Ita'7,  ?pd  'ODiantio  Venice  ;  butj 
when  they  send  in  their  bills,  where' s  '<r.e  vorDance?    Ah!  [Loob'ngj 
at  bill.]     2,000  there,  and  2,000  here,  vad   -more  thousands,  again  ^ 
[Taking  other  bills  from  pocket.]  make  a  pw/^ty  ''id/ sum  for  somebody  to 
Mttle 


FROU  FROU.  47 

GiLBERTB  enters  from  l.  1  B- 

You  sent  my  message,  Panline  ? 

P<^u  Zauetto  has  just  gone,  Madame.  [Pauline  hides hiUs  hekindher.] 
I  must  speak  to  her  of  these  things,  some  time. 
**1Sf^'  What  are  you  hiding  there  ?    What  papers  are  those  ? 

P<  u  Me!    oh!    these — [Looking  at  bills.]    these — these  are—billa, 
Mad  ime. 
iSSlseSi  Bills? 

P'tu  I  did  not  want  to  worry  you,  Madame  ;   but  the  tradespeople 
have  asked  tor  money. 

•''•^'?*  Money  ?    St  ire ;  I  had  not  thought  of  that.     Give  them  to  me. 
And  sc  I  am  in  debt.     Don't  be  afraid,  Pauline  ;   they  shall  be  paid 

[Goes  up  to  window. 

Enter  Zanetto  l.  c.  .  with  newspaper  and  a  letter. 

Zr.n  I  just  got  these  from  the  postman ;  and  I  thought  I'd  better 
brin;^  them  in.  [Gives  them  to  Pauline. 

Pau  [Aside  to  Zanetto.]  Why  didn't  you  go  with  your  message  to 
MoDsieur  Valreas  ? 
[ZatsBTTO  winks^  points  to  l.  4  e.,  and  shows  money  in  his  hand,  and  iJien 

goes  off,  l.  1  e.     Pauline  gives  letter  to  Gilberte,  who  opens  and  reads.'\ 

Gl  Ah !  from  the  doctor. 
[Then  lean%  her  head  on  her  hand  at  table.  Tatjlise puis p'jper  on  table. 

Pau  [Timidly,  after  a  pause.]  Pardon,  Madame ! — Madame  said  the 
letter  was  from  the  doctor  ? 

f^^^vi^^  [Moved]  And  you  wish  to  know  what  he  says?    Ah!    kind 
Pauline. 

Pau  Little  Georgie — Madame? 
n*Q*i  He  is  better.     The  news  is  good ;  very  good. 

Pju  1  am  so  glad,  Madame,  that  the  news  is  good. 
"•^^'^  [Kissing  the  letter.]  Yes  ;  he  is  better  ;  and  [  With  an  effort  to  conceal 
feeling.]  his  father,  who,  for  a  month  past,  was  thought  to  be  in  dan- 
ger— is  saved.    That,  too,  is  what  you  wished  to  know,  is  it  not  ? 

Pau  Yes ;  Madame. 
[Gilberts  buries  her  head  in  her  hands.    Pauline,  with  a  pitying  glance^ 

exits  quietly,  l.  1  e.] 
■li*^^  [After  a  pause.]  One  moment  of  anger,  and  this  is  what  it  baa 
brought  me.     [Rises.]     Well,  it  is  too  late  now. 

Enter  Valreas,  l.  c. 

Val  Gilberte ! 

[Puh  his  hat  on  chair ^  and  takes  her  hand,  without  enthwsiatmi 
=*-^?#  [Eagerly.]  Valreas ! 

Erder  Zanetto,  l.  1  e.  ,  %xnih  tea  service^  which  he  places  on  tabk  ft. 

'^al  [Taking  off  his  gloves.]  I  am  a  little  late. 
^'Tfri  Now  that  you  are  here  ? 
iSan  Your  excellencdes  are  served. 


48 


FROU  FROU. 


tm  That  will  do.    Go.    [i^zi^  Zanbtto,  l.  1  e.]    Come.   [Tb  Yalbsas. 

Ches  to  table  and  begins  to  serve  tea.] 

Vol  But  you  ought  to  know  the  reason  ;  for  of  course  there  must 
be  a  reason. 

[Paiises  as  she  pours  out  tea."]  A  reason  ? 
Vol  Yes  ;  my  mother  has  been  here  these  three  days. 

[Sadly.     Laying  down  tea-pot.']  Ah,  yes!  I  knew. 
Val  Sitting  at  table.]  You  knew? 

For  three  days  you  have  come  late,  like  to-day.     It  was  the 
first  time,  and  you  seemed  strange.     I  could  not  tell  why  ;  and  so, 
when  you  left  me  yesterday — 
Val  Yesterday? 

[Trying  to  rniUe.]  Why,  a  vailed  lady  in  a  gondola  followed  a 
young  gentleman  who  stepped  into  another  gondola — nothing  more 
natural,  in  Venice,  you  know?  And  that  is  how  I  discovered  [Her 
voice  trembling.]  that  your  mother  was  here. 

[Turning  from  him— face  to  front. 
Val  [Leaning  over  table.]  And  you  did  not  speak  to  me  about  her  ? 
~     [Huskily.]    I  did  not  dare.    I  was  afraid. 
Val  [Smiling.]  Afraid? 

'~"  Going  to  him.]  Yes  ;  but  I  don't  feel  afraid  now,  for  you  smile, 
and  that  reassures  me. 

Val  Bdt  why  should  you  fear  ? 

[Sinking  on  stool  beside  him.]  She  hates  me,  does  she  not? 
Val  My  mother  loves  me  too  much  to  hate  any  one —        [Stops. 
[Looking  into  ids  face^  and  talcing  his  hands  in  hers.]  Anyone  who 
r  ves  you.     Why  do  you  not  say  it  ? 

Val  [Kindly.]  Any  one  who  loves  me.     There. 
[Breathlessly.]  But  she  would  separate  us  ? 
Val  She  is  going  to  pass  part  of  the  winter  at  Rome.     She  wanted 
D  e  to  accompany  her  ;  so  she  said. 

mmfwG%l  [Same.]  And  you  ?  j 

Val  Could  you  doubt  me  ?  My  mother  leaves  to-morrow ;  and  she 
g^es  alone. 

'~"  Alone  ?    Do  not  the  Baron  and  Baroness  de  Cambri  go  witbjj 
her?  ■ 

Val  Ah  !  you  know  that  they — 

Yes  ;  I  know  they  are  here.  [Sadly.]  Why  should  I  conceal 
tt?    I  had  hoped  the  Baroness  would  have  come  to  see  me. 

[Hangs  her  head. 
Val  [Tenderly.]  Gilberte! 

6W  [  With  ica>'m  emotion,  but  not  loudly.]  What  matters  it  ?  Whal 
Bifitters  if  they  all  turn  from  me,  so  that  you  remain?  All  my  lifa 
Is  in  your  hands,  now.  I  ought  to  remember  that ;  and — and— [jTears.] 
X  will  be  happy  so  long  as  you  do  not  forget  me. 

Val  [Fretfully.]  ^Vhy  do  you  speak  bo  ?  You  know  that  I  will 
aft^er  forget — 

[Brushing  aicay  her  tears.]  Yes  ;  I  know — I  know. 
\fieaves  Ids  aide  and  returns  to  tjhle  as  Za^vtctq  enters  with  disli  qf  frtuti 
wki/:li  hejplaces  on  idjjbla* 


FROU  FROU.  48 

Vol  Zanetto,  give  me  the  newspapers. 
Zan  Here's  the  Figaro,  excellency. 
[Bands  2)ap€r,  and  after  fiimjling  about  table  for  a  bit,  and  observing  thai 
neither  speak  while  he  is  present.] 
Zan  The  sunny  Italian  is  evidently  not  wanted.         [Exits  l.  1  e. 
Val  It  feels  like  home  again,   to  read  a  Paris  paper.     Halloa ! 
first  ni,2:ht  at  the  Palais  Ptoyale.    Commences  at  8. 

*■ ^il  [SmiU7i(j.]  We  shan't  be  in  time. 

Val  No  ;  we're  rather  far  ofl,  in  the  first  place — and  then  the  paper 
is  three  days  old. 

'^GU  [Rising  and  leaning  over  his  shoulder.']    And  what  was  the  news, 
three  days  ago  ? 

Val  Let  me  see  ;   Isthmus  of  Suez— visit  of  the  Empress— the  rain 
has  played  the  deuce  with  the  crops.     Tliat's  not  interesting. 
N-a*^*^  Not  very.     And  what  else  ? 

Val  More  isthmus — more — ah  !  here  are  the  theaters. 

Ah  !  how  I  used  to  love  them.     What  are  they  playing? 
Val  "  The  Last  Day  of  Happiness,"  um  1    "A  Wife's  Honor,"  at 
the  Od^on,  um  !  "Patrie,"  at  the  Porte  St.  Martin.     Ah!     [Siglis.] 
■■itt  [Trying  to  conceal  her  feelings.]    A  new  opera  by  Verdi,  at  the 
:  Italiens— 
I       Val  And  at  the  Gymnase.    Ah  !  Gilberte. 

[Looks  up  from  paper.     Their  eyes  meet. 
!■■■''"  '"^W?  [Bands  on  the  back  of  his  chair.]    Paul.     [Both  remain  silent  for  a 
i  moment.     The  paper  falls  to  his  feet ;  and  he  speaks  in  a  voi$€  grave  and  sad.] 
Val  What  are  you  thinking  of,  Gilberte? 
Shi  You  are  not  sorry  for  all  this  ? 
Val  Gilberte ! 

Say  you  are  not  sorry. 
Vol  [Throwing  off  his  gravity  and  putting  his  arm  about  her  waist  at  dm 
Uands  beside  him.]  Why,  certainly  not  ? 
^*^®**8'#  And  you  love  me  still,  do  you  not  ? 

Enter  Pauline,  l.  c. 

Well,  what  i&  it,  Pauline  ? 
Fan  Th^  Baron  de  Cambri,  Madame  ;  and  the  Baroness. 

^"  [With Joy,  and  making  step  towards  door.]  Ah  ! 

[The  Baroness  enters,  and  the  two  embrace  long  and  Icmngly. 
Bar  Vy  darling  child  ! 

[Through  her  tears.]  It  was  so  good  of  you  to  come. 
P'n^s  [Taking  her  towards  sofa,  l.]    At  first  the  Baron  would  not 
came  with  me ;  but  1  ran  away,  and  here  I  am. 

[Tliey  sit  on  sofa,  their  arms  aboiU  each  other. 

Enter  Baron,  l.  c,  first  putting  in  his  head. 

Baron  Ha !  I  thought  better  of  it,  and  so  /came. 
Val  Ah  !  my  dear  Cambri.  [They  shake  hands. 

Baron  I  say  I  thought  better  of  it.    My  wife  wanted  to  come  alone: 
but  I  always  make  it  a  point,  when  my  wife  wants  to  go  anywhere 


iO  FROU  FROU. 

alone,  to  come  after  her  directly.  It  is  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  pbyirf- 
cally,  but  it  makes  my  mind  easj.  When  you  are  married,  follow 
my  example.  Motto  for  husbands  :  Be  attentive,  and  you  will  be 
happy. 

Val  You  see,  Madame.  [Baron  hows  to  Gilbertb. 

B^ness  Take  him  away  with  you,  Valreas.    He  is  always  in  the  way. 

Baron  My  love,  that's  my  way.  But  I  say,  Valreas,  [bringing  him 
doicn  R.  c,  and  speaking  in  a  low  tone.]  Sartorys  is  here. 

Val  [Starting.]  Sartorys!  [Pause;  then  suppressing  emotion,  and  taking 
Baron's  hand.]  I  see.  You  have  permitted  your  wife  to  come  here, 
rto  that  if  anything  should  happen,  Gilberte  would  not  be  left  alone. 

Baron  Exactly ! 

Vol  [Aside.]  Boor  Gilberte ! 

Baion  You  don't  seem  very  happy.  You  must  have  known,  of 
course,  that  he'd  come  some  time.  Human  nature,  you  know ; 
human  nature. 

Val  There  are  some  things  which  we  are  bound  to  expect,  and  yet 
which  seem  to  be  always  far  off ;  [Smiling.]  and  death  is  one  of  them. 

[Goes  towards  ladies. 

Baron  [Aside.]  "And  death  is  one  of  them."  Any  man  who  talks 
in  such  a  tone  of  voice  as  that,  is  sure  to  be  popped  over  at  the  first 
shot. 

Val  [To  ladies,  smiling.]  You  have  much  to  say  to  each  other,  I 
suppose  ? 

B'ness  Indeed,  -^e  have. 

Val  [Taking  his  hat.]  We  will  go,  if  you  like,  and  leave  you  to  chat 
a  little. 

[Tenderlg.]  You  will  return  soon  ? 

Vol  Oh,  yes !  The  Baron  will  come  back  after  Madame,  and  I  will 
'•etum  with  him. 

Baron  [Aside.     Going  up.]  Yes  ;  if  Sartorys  don't  finish  him. 

B'ness  Don't  be  long. 

Val  Oh,  expect  us  soon.  [Bows^  and  turns  to  Babon,  aside.]  Will 
the  Baroness  tell  her  ? 

Baron  [Sam£.]  The  Baroness  don't  know  that  Sartorys  is  here. 

Val  [Returning  to  Gilbep.te,  and  taking  her  hand  over  back  of  sofa  and 
kissing  it.]  Farewell,  Gilberte.  [With  deep  emotion. 

6W^  Until  we  meet  again  ? 

Val  Until  we  meet  ag-ain.  [Exits  l.  c. 

Baron  [Aside  and  following  him.]  "  Until  we  meet  again."  If  tha* 
young  man  don't  shoot  quicker  than  he  talks,  he's  a  goner. 

[Exits  after  Valreas. 
[To  Baroxess.]  Tell  me  everything.  Every  thing  that  has  passed 

B'ness  At  Paris? 

Georgie  !  My  child ! 

B'ness  He  is  much  better.     I  saw  him  in  the  park. 

#»  You  have  seen  him  ? 

B'ness  Yes ;  with  his  governess.  I  kissed  him  once  for  myself,  and 
I  dou't  know  how  many  times  for  you. 


FROU  FROU.  61 

'*'****'^  [Pressing  her  hand  silently,  and  turning  away  for  an  ■fr.stant]  ThanliS ! 
Ihanks  !     And — Louise  ? 

B'ness  She  lias  gone  back  to  her  father's.     She  went  back  after  it 
was  certain  that  M.  SsLvt— [Checks  herself.]  after  the  doctors  declai'ed 
liim  out  of  danger.     She  and  her  father  have  returned  to  the  old 
house  at  Charmarettes. 
*-*^^*W  [Sadly.]  Charmarettes!     [To  herself  u^ith  a  stifled  sigh.]    Home  I 

B'ness  Yes. 
^^"'^'^  [After  apause.]  And  me  ?    Do  they  speak  of  me  ? 

B'ne&s  Not  a  word. 
i^.^.Jmk' Kvn  I  wholly  forgotten  ? 

B'ness  Why,  you  know,  uiy  dear — after  six  weeks !  Of  course,  for 
the  last  fortnight  every  one  had  something  to  say.  But  dont  be 
afraid  ;  every  one  took  your  part.  And  when  Sartorys'  lawyer  told 
all  Paris  how  you  had  sent  to  him  the  deeds  conveying  your  entire 
dowry— two  millions,  I  believe— to  little  Georgie  -  well,  after  th;it. 
nothing  was  heard  against  you.  The  severest  among  our  sex  began 
to  plead  your  cause.  Ah  I  such  courage  is  a  tine  thing,  my  dear, 
and  precious  rare,  too. 
— W.  [In  half  tones.]  Then  I  am  not  overwhelmed  with  reproaches? 

B'ness  Reproaches,  my  dear !    They  know  that  you  are  happy, 
and  you  are  very  much  envied. 
^m^^U  [Drooping  her  head.]  Happy? 
B'?iess  Of  course  you  are  happy ! 
.^^r<Md.  Yes ;  I  am  happy.    [WUh  a  sort  of  terror.]    What  would  become 
of  me  if  I  were  not  ?  [They  rise. 

B'ness  Do  you  know  that  you  have  an  elegant  place — this  old 
palace  ?     [Looking  off,  through  her  glass.]     Delightful  view  !     You  must 
be  happy  here  !    How  much  he  must  love  you !     I  noticed  his  ex- 
pression when  he  left  you,  now.     At  first,  I  was  afraid  to  come,  for 
fear  I  should  find  you  miserable  ;  but  it's  all  right. 
"^'Wh^  Yes  ;  he  loves  me.     Why  did  I  not  marry  him  when — do  you 
know  you  recalled  it  all  when  you  spoke  of  home — a*  the  Char- 
marettes ?    You  remember  five  years  ago  ? 
B'ness  Yes  ;  I  remember. 
f****^WLIf  I  had  married  him,  I  would  not  now  be  here. 

B'ness  Ah,  my  child  !    the  old  regret — the  old  sigh  of  the  broken 
heart — "It  might  have  been." 
[Puts  hjr  hand. on  Gilberte's  liead,  kindly,  as  she  buries  her  face  in  her  hands."] 

Enter  Pauline,  l.  c,  in  consternation. 

Pau  Madame!  Madame! 
^*^^Wi  [Rising  in  alarm.]  What  is  it  ? 
Pau  He  is  here ! 
[Whispers  in  Gilberte's  ear,  and  poinis  towards  c,  door.     Gilberte  half 

staggers  aganst  table.] 

"■H*^  [To  Baroness.]  Go — I  beseech  you. 

'  B'ness  Who  is  it  ? 
'^^ffU  [Pointing  to  door -L.]    Quick  I    Enter  there.    Do  not  come  till  I 
call  you. 


i  FROr  FROQ 

B^netis  [As  if  comprehending.']  Gilberte !    My  dear  Gilberte ! 

idHi  [In  her  anri^.]  You  will  not  leave  me  ?  [TT'ziA  tone  of  terror^  and 
guickhj^     I  ma^-  have  need  of  you.     Promise  me  ! 

B'ness  I  promise  you.  [Miisic  till  SARTORrs  enters. 

[Kisses  her,  and  exits  l.     Gilberte  motions  Pat^line  to  retire,  who  goes  of 

door  L.      Gilberte  stands  c,  leaning  against  table;    her  face  tip  sttige, 

towards  Sartorys.  who  enters  l.  c,  very  pale,  and  frightfully  changed.] 

#it  [As  if  shrinkbig  from  an  apparition.]  You  ? 

Sir  I. 

I  knew  that  you  had  been  very,  very  sick;  that  you  were  almost — 

Sar  Yes.  they  told  me  that  I  was  so  ill,  I  must  not  hope.     But  you  • 
see  T  am  not  dead      WLen  sufficient  of  my  strength  returned  to  me, 
d»  J  had  some  business  to  -icncluJe  with  you,  I  came. 

i^il  Tome  business — with  me  ? 

iSu'r  \>o,  about — [He  braces  himself  against  hack  of  chair.  Gilberte 
goes  inwards  him ;  he  recovers  him.'^eif  with  emotion,]  'Tis  nothing.  I  beg 
your  i/ardoD.  I  am  still  very— very — my  throat  is  on  fire — water— I 
can  hardly  speak — 

~'"  Water  ?  [Goes  to  table,  pours  water  in  one  of  the  glasses,  and  brings 
to  Sartgris,  who,  noticing  the  doubh  set  on  the  table,  points  to  them  and 
refuses  to  take  'M  7/ass.  Gilberte,  in  dtsporr^  staggers  back  to  table  and  set* 
dovm  the  glass]  Heaven  help  me  ! 

Sar  It  was  about  your  dowry. 

'^U  My  dowry  ? 

[Turning  towards  him  again. 

Sar  Yes,  the  money  which  you  have  sent  to  Paris.  You  must  take 
It  back  again.     T  will  not  leave  you  exposed  to — 

Wfft  I  have  already  said— I  do  not  need  it ! 

Sar  I  know,  I  know,  but  you  must. 

#K'  No,  I  will  take  nothing— 

Sar  Will  you  then  force  me  to  give  you  another  reason.    [Gilberts 
hoks  cd  him  with  frightened  countenance]  I  do  not  wish  my  son  ever  to 
touch  one  cent  of  that  money.     I  will  not  have  it,  you  understand  ? 
^gjginiiiiiininiH^iT  [Sinks  into  chair.]  Yes. 

Sar  And  so  that  no  one  else  should  be  compelled  to  tell  you,  I 
have  come  myself ;  and  I  leave  you  this. 

[Lays  large  envelope^  heavily  sealed,  on  taJjle  beside  her  and  takes  one  step 
towards  door.] 
•laipiWjPi^You  are  going  ? 

Sar  Yes,  now  that  everything  is  terminated — 
,;3r«*^^  [  With  sudden  recollection.]  Valreas.     You  are  going  to  fight  him  ? 

Sar  Yes  !  You  expected  it,  did  you  not?  And  I  swear  to  you,  if 
1  had  had  the  strength  to  come  sooner — 
■..Ma0m^^  '[c]  You,  you  fight,  and  for  me  ?  For  me  ?  [Hysterical  laugh.] 
Frou  Frou !  Think  of  it — Frou  Frou  means  frivolity,  trifles,  dr<^sses. 
What  fearful  fate,  is  it,  then,  which  throws  me  amongst  things  so  terri- 
ble as  bloodshed  and  death.  [He  starts  toward  door  ;  she  stops  him  by  run" 
fling  before  and  throwing  herself  at  his  knees,  clasping  her  hands  before  him.] 
Fou  shall  not  fight !     What !  a  man  like  you  to  risk  a  precious  life, 


FEOU  FROU.  6S 

And  for  a  woman  like  me  ?     {Tearfully,']    There  must  be  some  otliei 
way  to  satisfy  your  honor. 

Sar  [Biiterly]  My  honor ! 
'm^Gil  The  world,  no  matter  what  you  may  do,  can  never  doubt  your 
courage ! 

S:ir  You.  are  mistaken  if  you  believe  it  is  of  my  honor  1  think  now, 
or  that  I  have  troubled  myself  one  instant  with  what  the  world  has 
thought  of  your  fault  or  what  it  may  think  of  my  vengeance.  I  am 
not  a  husbaiid  who  comes  to  kill  the  lover  of  his  wife !  I  loved  you 
— you  have  betrayed  me  because  you  love  another— and  I  shall  try 
to  kill  that  other — that  is  all.  [Goes  toward  door, 

Gil  No,  no,  I  alone  am  guilty.     Crush  me,  but  me  alone. 

[Talces  his  hand— he  tries  to  release  himself. 

Sar  Leave  me. 
,,;;tdfiW^  What  vengeance  do  you  want  ?  I  dare  not  speak  of  death  for 
■myself— I  would  not  have  the  courage  to  die— but  there  are  convents 
— ck)se  by  there  is  one — take  me  there— I  will  go  gladly — let  its 
jfates  close  upon  me  and  never  again  shall  you  hear  of  the  woman 
iho  has  offended  you. 

Sar  [Sail  struggling  to  get  away]  I  told  you — 
-^•^*»f?W  Is  that  not  enough  ?— Think  of  some  other  punishment — any- 
thing— but  do  not  condemn  me  to  live  with  the  horrible  thought 
that  a  man  has  died  through  me ! 

S<.ir  [Trying  to  unclasp  GiLSEsm^ ^  fingers.]  All  this  is  useless 
gr^^ss^l^  Mercy ! 

Sar  No! 
giiJtfM0ir  Henri ! 

Sar  Call  me  not ! 
^^0i00ilt  Do  not  go — I  will  be  your  slave — I  will  love  you ! 

&^r  Wretch! 
[Eq>td2€S  her  ;  she  faints,  still  holding  his  hand;  he  drags  her  a  few  steps,  fliU 

iryinjf  to  open  her  fingers  ;  when  he  does,  she  falls  across  a  chair  at  back  ;  Sae- 

TOB.TJd  starts  to  go  out ;  at  hack  he  stops^  comes  back,  looks  at  Gilberte  a  few 

tninujs  as  if  demented  and  Baroness  enters  ;  Saetorys,  without  saying  a 

word^  points  tc  Gilberte  and  exits.     Curtain 


ACT    V. 

SCENE.-  -Same  as  Act  *2d,  but  seemingly  neglected;  no  flowers;  no  music  on 
piano ;  a  lighted  lamp  on  small  table ;  doors  closed;  the  picture  of  Froij 
Frou,  which  always  stood  on  the  eaad,  is  eovered  ivith  a  white  cloth.  TJie 
Governess  and  Georgie  discovered  seated  near  the  table,  r.  Stage  lialf 
dark.     Music  at  rise  of  curtain. 

Goner ness  [Reading  from  story  hook.]  "The  brave  young  prince  at 
last  aiTived  at  the  gate  of  the  Magician's  castle.  This  obstacle  would 
have  arrested  his  course,  since  all  the  art  and  all  the  strength  of  thu 
woHd  could  not  open  a  door  which  enchantment  kept  fast  closed, 


U  FROU  FROU. 

had  it  not  been  for  the  ring  which  the  Prince  wore  on  his  fingei  ^nd 
which  the  fairy  had  given  him  to  protect  him  from  the  evil  power  of 
the  magician  Merlin.  By  accident,  he  placed  that  hand  on  the  bars 
of  the  gate.  As  soon  as  the  talisman  touched  it  it  opened  and  the 
Prince  continui;d  his  journey  in  search  of  the  Princess.  After  havmg 
sought  for  her  for  two  years,  all  the  world  over,  he  at  length  had  the 
happiness  to  find  her  and  conduct  her  home." 

Georgie  And  why  did  the  Prince  seek  for  the  Princess  ? 

Gov  Because  he  loved  her. 

Georgie  And  found  her  at  last  ? 

G'jv  Didn't  you  hear?    "After  having  sought  for  her,  all  over  the 
world,  for  two  years,  he  at  length  had  the  happiness — " 

Georgie  [Taking  both  her  hands  between  his.]    Oh,  if  you  only  would— 
but  you  musn't  tell  any  one ! 

Gov  If  I  only  would  ? — what,  darling  ? 

Georgie  If  you  only  would — we  two  might  stari;  now  and  go  hunt- 
ing for  mamma  all  over  the  world. 

[Governess  kisses  Georgie. 

Miier  Angelique,  l.  c. 

Ang  Mademoiselle! 

Gov  [Turning  and  closing  hook.']  What  is  it? 

Ang  Pauline — Madame' s  old  waiting  maid — 

Gov  [Rising.]  Madame' s  old  waiting  maid  ! 

Ang  [Georgie  goes  forward,  listening.]   Yes,  she  is  below  and  saye 
Bhe  would  like  to  see  Master  Georgie. 

Goo  [Drawing  Georgie  to  her.]  But — 1  don't  know  that  I  can  per- 
mit it 

Ang  Ah !   Mademoiselle— poor  thing !    She  says  she  will  remain 
but  a  moment. 

Goo  I  really  don't  know  if  I  can  allow — nor  do  I  know  if  I  can 
deny — 

Enter  Pauline,  o. 

Pau  Mademoiselle,  I  beg  you — !  [Angelique  cao^s,  o. 

Georgie  [Running  to  Pauline.]  It's  Pauline !    Oh,  Pauline  ! 

[Pauline  stoops  on  her  kruxs  and  covers  tJie  child  with  kiiset. 
Pau  You  know  me,  Master  Georgie  ? 
Georgie  Yes,  I  knew  you  right  away. 
Pau  How  tall  you  have  g  own,  and  how  pretty ! 
Georgie  I  haven't  seen  you  for  such  a  long  time. 
Pau  Yes,  a  long  time— more  than  six  months. 
Georgie_  Why  did  you  go  away  ? 
Pau  [Looking  down?!^  Why? 
Georgie  And  uamma  ?    Where  is  she  ? 
Pau  [Faltering.]  Mamma! — Georgie? 

E^itCT  Sartorys,  l.  h.    Pauline  rises  hastily . 

8ar  [7b  Governess.]  Take  Georgie  to  bifl  room,  Mademrlselle. 

[He  kidsci  the  ckOi. 


FROU  FROU.  66 

Oof>  [Crossing  l.]  Monsieur,  if  I  have  done  wrong. 

Sar  I  do  not  reproach  you. 
[Moiiojis  for  her  to  remove  Georgie,  and  the  Go"\  erness  exit^  l.  1  is.  wkk 
the  child. 

Pau  [l.  c]  I  be;^  pardon,  Monsieur ! 

Sar  It  is  well.    How  long  have  you  been  in  Paris? 

Pau  Since  yesterday. 

Sar  Are  you  here — alone  ? 

Pan  No,  Monsieur ;  Mademoiselle  Louise  is  here  with  M.  Brigard 
and—  [Hesitates, 

Sar  [3I(yoed.]  She? 

Pau  [Low  tone,  eyes  on  ground.']  Yes,  Monsieur. 

Sar  [Half  audibly  ]  Near  me— hi  Paris  ! 

Pau  We  were  only  passing  through ;  to-morrow  we  go  to  the  South 
— the  doctors  say  it  is  absolutely  necessary. 

Sar  The  doctors  ? 

Pau  Yes,  Monsieur,  we  stopped  here  to  consult  them,  and  I 
thought  that  if  Madame  could  have  news  of  her  child,  it  would  do 
her  more  good  than  all  that  the  doctors  could  say  to  her,  so  I  came 
without  telling  anybody  what  I  was  about. 

Sar  Pauline  —is  she  in  danger  ? 

Pau  Ye.^.  Monsieur. 

Sar  Not  in  danger  of  death,  however,  not  in  danger  of  death  ? 

Pau  I  think  not.  Monsieur. 

Sar  You  think  not  ? 

Pau  I  was  more  afraid  of  it  six  months  ago,  the  day  that 
Monsieur —  [Pauses. 

Sar  Speak,  I  beg  of  you,  Pauline. 

Pau  I  thought  Madame  was  lost ;  it  lasted  three  days ;  Madame  de 
Cambri  and  I  nursed  her  the  best  we  could,  but  we  thought  each 
moment  she  would  die.  At  the  end  of  those  three  days,  Madem- 
oiselle Louise  arrived.  Madame  did  not  recognize  her  at  first,  but  at 
last  she  knew  her.  Mademoiselle  Louise  took  her  in  her  arms  and 
Madame  cried  ;  Mademoiselle  Louise  kept  her  clasped  in  her  arms, 
and  both  cried  without  saying  a  word.  From  that  moment,  my 
lady  began  to  improve  ;  after  a  while  she  was  able  to  travel  and  we 
all  returned  to  Charmarcttcs — 

Sar  And  there  she  contiuned  to  improve,  did  she  not  ? 

Pau  Yes,  during  the  first  two  months  ;  we  hoped,  yet  she  was  very 
pale,  and  her  smile  was  very  sad.  Ah,  if  you  had  seen  her  so — and 
with  a  plain  black  dress  now,  which  she  always  wears — she  who  used 

Sar  Yes,  yes — 

Pau  And  then  Madame  was  always  among  the  poor  and  tending 
the  sick.  At  last,  v;hat  was  inevitable,  happened.  After  having 
parsed  several  nights  wilh  a  poor  old  woman — whose  life  she  saved— 
ihe  fell  sick  herself  of  the  fever.  'We  called  In  the  physicians— those 
down  there  sent  us  to  those  up  here—  the  latter  have  decided  what  I 
told  you  a  moment  ago— that  she  must  go  to  the  South — that  tliere 
Madame  might  recover. 


M  FROU  FKOU. 

Ekter  Anqeliqub,  c. 

Awj  Monsieur,  Mademoiselle  Louise  is  below. 

Sar  Louise  ! 

Pau  [Frightened  and  taking  a  step  forward  to  c]  Ah,  Monsieur,  J  she 
has  come  here  there  must  be — 

Sar  E.  c.  What -do  you  mean  ? 

Fan  [l.  c]  That  Madame  must  be  very  ill. 

Sar  [Pointing  l.  h.]  There — there  you  will  find  Georgie.     You  will 
be  able  to  kiss  him  before  you  leave.     That  way — go  quickly. 
[Pauline  crosses  and  exits  l.  1  e.     Sartorys  makes  a  sign  to  Anqeliqub 
who  exits  o.] 

Enter  Louise. 

Louise  [In  doorway  c  ,  quickly. ]  Georp:ie — her  child  ! 

Sar  [Going  a  step  towards  her.]  Louise  ! 

Louve  You  can  not  refuse  to  let  her  see  her  child  before  she  dies! 

Sar  [Paralyzed.]  Before  she  1 
[Presses  his  hand  to  his  heart  and  bows  his  head  suddenly  as  if  a  heavy  Ucno 
had  stricken  him. 

Louise  Yes,  before  she  dies. 

Sar  [Leaning  against  chair.]  Ah ! 

Louise  You  do  not  answer  ? 

Sar  He  is  there.  [She  makes  the  step  forward;  he  recovers;  mjotionsher; 
she  stops ;  he  rings  hdl  on  table.]  He  wUl  be  brought — you  shall  take 
him  with  you. 

Louise  I  will  take  him  ? 

Sar  [Fixing  penetrating  glances  upon  her,]  Is  not  that  what  you  ask  of 
me? 

Louise  Yes,  that  is  what  I  asked,  but  I  hoped  you  would  have  re- 
plied differently. 

Sar  Wiiat  else  do  you  desire  ? 

Louise  I  hoped  that  you  yourself  would  have  taken  Georgie  to  her ; 
that  you  would  see  her ;  and  that  one  word  of  forgiveness — 

Sar  [Starting  back.]  Forgiveness ! 

Louise  [Going  to  him  supplicatingly.]  Henri !  [ITe  tarns  away.]  She 
is  dying. 

Sar  Dying  !  Oh,  Louise— if  I  could ! — My  heart  is  torn  by  the 
most  terrible  sufferings  that  a  man  can  bear — but,  if  by  giving  my 
own  life,  I  could  save  hers — T  would  not  hesitate  one  moment.  I  do 
not  speak  falsely  when  I  say  that,  but  I  would  lie  if  1  said  that  I  for- 
give her. 

Louise  Have  you  not  had  your  revenge  ?  After  that  comes  forgive- 
ness. [Sartorys  si?iks  into  chair ^  clenching  hands.]  Has  not  the  expia- 
tion been  terrible  enough  ?    Have  not  her  sufferiiigs— 

Sar  Her  sufferings!  Look  around  you,  at  the  house— desoltite! 
The  child — deserted.  Look  at  me,  and  tell  me  which  you  think  has 
suffered  most,  she  or  I? 

Louise  The  good  she  did  to  those  around  hf  r — 

Sar  [With  inte?isUy,  and  rising.]  What  have  [  benefits  h^  the  good 


FROU  FROU.  67 

she  has  done  to  others  ?  That  does  not  lessen  th^  blo\i^  she  has  dealt 
my  heart.  Why  should  I  forgive  her,  because  of  the  good  she  haa 
done  them  !  Will  you  go  ask  the  poor  she  aided,  the  sick  she  tended, 
and  the  dying  whom  she  redeemed  to  curse  her,  because  of  the  harm 
she  has  done  to  me  ? 

Louise  ^Pleading.']  She  awaits  your  forgiveness— and  she  is  dying. 

Sar  [Calmer,  hut  resolute.]  You  wish  me  to  utter  a  falsehood— is  that 
it?  Well  I  will  do  it.  I  can  say  that  I  forgive,  but  it  does  not  come 
from  my  heart.    The  wound  is  too  deep,  the  sorrow  is  too  great. 

L(Am  [c]  A  sorrow  greater  than  yours  has  forgiven  her. 

Sar  A  greater  sorrow  than  mine  ?    Of  whom  do  yon  speak? 

Lmise  It  is  your  fault  alone  if  I  awaken  somber  memories.  I  spoke 
of  that  mother — 

Sar  [Sinking  into  chair  again."]  Louise ! 

Lmise  Whose  son  you  killed. 

Sar  [Struck  with  remorse.]  Poor  Valreas ! 

Louise  She  saw  Gilberte  dying,  and  GUberte,  dying,  begged  her  to 
forgive  both  herself  and  you. 

Sar  And  that  mother  forgave  ? 

Louise  She  forgave. 

Sar  [BUterly.]  Ah !  you  women,  it  is  your  religion  makes  you  giY« 
the  lie  to  your  hearts. 

Louise  [Reproaohfully.]  Henri! 

Sar  [Ooldlgt  and  crossing.]  Take  the  child  with  you. 

MOer  Beigard  c.    Ee  stops,] 

Jjouise  Father! 

Sar  [Turning.]  Monsieur ! — you  here  ? 
Brig  She  would  come.     I  could  not  prevent  her. 
Louise  [Excitedly  and  going  Imvards  Brigard.]  Gilberte  ? 
Brig  Is  there  ?  [Pointing  off  c.     Exit  Louise,  rapidly,  o. 

Brig  [  Jb  Sartorys.]  You  will  not  refuse  to  see  her  ?  It  is  only  to 
die  that  she  has  returned  to  this  that  was  once  her  home.     [Musixi. 

Gilberte  appears  at  hack  supported  hy  Louise.     She  comes  forward  a  few 
steps  and  sinks  on  her  knees.     Brigard  takes  a  step  towards  her, 

0^'^'OU  [  Waving  Brigard  hack.]  Not  you,  my  father,  not  you  \ 

[Sartor  Ys  springs  forward  and  raises  her  in  his  arms. 
Sar  Gilberte  1  my  Gilberte  ! 

^0^  [Gazing  tenderly  at  him  and  in  a  low  tone.]  Thank  you,  thank  you. 
[Sartorys  supports  her  to  sofa  and  kneels  heside  her.  Gilberte,  after  look* 
ing  about  her  with  a  childish  smile.]  At  home,  at  home  again. 

Sar  [Tenderly.]  Yes,  at  home,  Gilberte!  at  home,  and  you  shall 
not  die,  you  shall  always  remain  here ! 

[Brigard  and  Louise  by  mantle,  l. 
..!.*4W^  [Smiling.]  Always? 

Sar  [Taking  hjer  hand.]  Poor  Gilberte  ! 

Jffih  [Gently  pressing  his  forehead  arid  pushing  hack  Us  lioirJ]  You  forgive 
«e,  do  you  not  ? 


FRC  a  FROTJ. 

8ar  Yes,  Gilberte,  with  all  my  soul.  \Mu9k. 

-#*  After  pressing  her  hand  to  her  heart,  as  if  seized  with  a  sudden  pain^ 
mud  then^  in  a  foreboding  voice.']  Georgie,  my  little  Georgie— bring  him 
to  me- 

Sar  [Rising]  Yes,  I  will  go  for  him. 

""'  [Asif  fearful  of  dging  before  he  comes.]  Now — now — 

[Sartoeys  exits  quickly,  l.  h.     Louise  darts  to  Gilberte's  side. 
[Observing  Beigard  who  is  leaning  on  mantle ^  back  to  audience.]  Poor 
father ! 

Ri-enier  Sartoeys,  with  Geoegib,  followed  by  Pauline,  who  goes  to  back  of 
sofa  iyy  Gilbertb. 

Oeorgie  Mamma !  [Breaks  away  from  his  father  and  runs  to  her. 

[  With  a  wild  cry,  half  rising^  Georgie ! — my  son !  —my  child  I 
[She  takes  the  child  in  her  arms  and  ke«ps  him  some  minutes. 
Georgie  You  have  come  back  at  last,  mamma  ? 
tfSfil  Yes,  but  not  for  a  long  time,  my  Georgie.    Let  me  kiss  you 
again — once  more.     [She  kisses  the  child  repeaUdly.]    Louise !     [Half 
fainting  from  emotion,  she  resigns  him.]    He  is  yours.     I  give  him  to  you. 
Louise  [  Who  has  come  to  the  front  of  the  couch.]  Sister  I 
■#*  Yes,  to  you  !     [Taking  Saetorys*  hand,  who  is  behind  sofa.]    Once 
before — here — I  said  the  same  thing.    For^ve  me — ^forgive  me  alL 
Gome  close,  both,  and  promise  me,  promise  me  I    Ah ! 

IBandtohearL 
Sar  You  will  not  die,  my  Gilberte,  you  must  not  I 

[Briqard /(WW  ffroup  about  the  camh. 
_      [Looking  on  the  group  about  her.]  Not  die  ?  when  I  am  so  happy  ? 
Brig  My  daughter ! 
^^.j^SUi  Do  not  pity  me— be  glad,  my  father.    What  had  I  to  expect 
for  my  sin  ? — to  die  abandoned — ^forsaken  I    Instead,  I  die  amid  all 
my  own — who  love  me.     Happy,  so  happy  ? 

Sar  [Taking  her  hand  and  kneeling.]  Ah,  Gilberte,  it  is  not  you  who 
need  forgiveuess,  it  is  I. 

tmm^^U  Forgive  you  for— for  what?    For  having  loved  me  to  well? 
Ah !  that  has  been  my  misfortune,  all  hav3  loved  me  too  welL 
Louise  [Sobbing.]  Gilberte  ! 

^l  And  that  is  why  I  die — so  happy.     {Falling  J^fcfe.]    Ah  I 
All  [Believing  her  dead.]  Gilberte  ! 

Wg^  [Supported  by  Sartor YS  who  places  his  arm  tenderly  about  her  as  she 
raises  her  head.]  Ix)uise — where  are  you  ? — Louise !  TjOuise  places  a 
hand  in  Gilbf:rte>  3  tmthout  lifting  her  head.]  I^;3t  me  teli  you— when  I 
am  dead— deck  me  out  as  beautifully  as  in  the  by-gone  happy  days— 
not  in  this  black  robe.  Among  my  ball-dresses,  you  will  find  a 
white  one,  you  know,  the  skirt  is  covered  with  little  roses  ;  that  is 
the  one  I  want;  don't  forget — and  you  will  see  how  handsome  I 
chall  be. 
Sar  Oh !  Gilberte !  Darling ! 
.^isp?i0Q  [Sadly  smiling — her  eyes  upturned  to  his.]  You  see— still  <;he  sanii 
— Frou  Frou— [(rfWtTz^  insensible.]    Poor  Frou  Frou ! 


FEOU  FROU.  59 

[Bar  armi  relax-^  her  fiead  falls — Sartor ys  lays  her  gently  dawn  and 
tMing  aside,] 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  PINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.00  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


n  ?SS9 


APB    1   t9^ 


riECt-j  V£:,0 


j8ect'63l|T 


a(IR2l^B-4P.\i 


RecD  v-o 


-tfr^ 


'fi3 -1 P^ 


RfcCEIVED 


OCT  3  1  1996 


iJN  25  1968  3  1 


4  oj 


jpRCULAHONDEPT. 


LD  21-. 


908525 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


•    ■  '::'krM, 


